


The Princess of White Chapel

by Katie_Dub



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katie_Dub/pseuds/Katie_Dub
Summary: Dr Killian Jones is having a terrible day. He’s got a mission, he’s got a time machine, he’s got … drunk. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated M for alcohol use, violence, minor character death, frank discussions of depression and grief.  
> This is not a Millian fic, but their relationship is discussed and shown in a positive light, if that's not your bag, no hard feelings!

A soft hand wrapping around his waist. A mess of tangled curls tickling his cheek. The scent of spices and sex filling his nose.

He kept his eyes closed, basking in the blissful sensations. Life with his love felt like the most perfect dream - and he wasn’t willing to give it up just yet.

“Killian,” a husky whisper in his ear, “Killian, darling, time to wake up now.” A nose nuzzling against the sensitive spot behind his ear, tickling him and making him twitch. Stubbornly, he squeezed his eyes together ever more tightly.

Sharp teeth biting down on his earlobe finally startled him enough to open his eyes. He turned to glare at Milah, forcing himself to hold her gaze so as not to be distracted by her many assets. She giggled at the look of exaggerated fury on his face, ducking down to his ear to whisper “Oops” before licking where her teeth had been.

Killian groaned as she trailed her lips and her tongue along his jaw, kissing, licking, and sucking as she went. His eyes closed as he revelled in the sensations left in her wake, his breath quickening and his pulse starting to race as she inched ever closer to his lips.

When she finally, torturously slowly, brushed her lips against his, he lost all patience. He growled as he tangled his hands into her hair, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. He rolled her onto her back and broke away, resting his forehead against hers as he caught his breath.

“You’ll be the death of me, my love,” he murmured, peppering Milah’s face with kisses.

“But what a way to go, aye?” was her teasing reply, the last of her words lost to a gasp as he began to kiss his way down her body.

Killian awoke from his dream, disoriented and disheveled, by the sound of his phone ringing. He fell off the sofa as he scrambled about to stop the incessant noise, knocking his elbow on the coffee table and sending a glass of water flying in the process. 

“Bloody hell!” 

God, he wanted to be back in that dream, a decade in the past where he was with Milah, in love, their naked bodies entwined. Alone, in pain, and wearing the contents of his drink on his now soggy shirt. This was his reality now.

He spotted the phone and grabbed it, barking “what?” as he stalked towards his kitchen for something to clean up the mess.

“Hi Killian,” Belle answered benignly. She always did have saintly levels of patience with his bullshit. “Just checking if you’re going to make it to book club tonight? We’re discussing  _ Neverwhere _ by Neil Gaiman.” Killian glanced at the clock, 7:35. He was meant to be there… five minutes ago.  _ Fuck. _ “And before you try fobbing me off by saying that you haven’t read the book and wouldn’t have anything to add anyway, you suggested this one Killian. In fact, you’re meant to be leading the discussion. I believe you said that it’s one of your favourites, a ‘ _ modern classic’ _ ?” He could actually hear the air quotes he had no doubt Belle would do if they were together.

“Belle, I’m really sorry, it’s just something important came up.” He glanced at the letter lying on his coffee table, alongside a now nearly empty bottle of rum, his jaw clenching at the sight. “I just can’t tonight.” He winced as he waited for the inevitable backlash. Was she going to get angry? Guilt him with the weight of her crushing disappointment?

“Oh. That’s a shame. I really wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine. Maybe another time.”

Killian made a vaguely noncommittal noise in reply, wanting to rant at her for pushing him towards a new relationship. While Belle was kind enough to be so understanding about him bailing on her yet again, he didn’t feel like he could, but the rage simmered all the same.

“I've got to go, everyone’s waiting. Call me later?”

“Sure, Belle, bye.” Killian hoped he had sounded at least vaguely civil as he jabbed at his phone to end the call. He dropped it next to him as he slumped back against the sofa. Unconsciously, he began to play with the ring on the prosthetic that had replaced his left hand while he fumed silently at Belle’s presumption. When would they all understand that what he had with Milah couldn’t just be replaced? That he didn’t even want to try?

Perhaps if they understood his plans, they wouldn’t push him so hard. He didn’t need a replacement for Milah. He needed to save her. And he would. 

So long as time hadn’t run out. 

He picked up the letter that had driven him to drink until he passed out when he received it earlier that day. It had been a long time since he had spiralled like that and lost sight of his goal. He re-read the words, still in disbelief, somehow hoping a few hours would have changed their meaning. If it weren’t for the official King’s College London letterhead, he might have thought it was a wind up.

“Dear Dr. Jones,

It is with regret that we must inform you that, in line with the current economic troubles society is facing, we have made the decision to withdraw your funding at the end of the academic year.”

Killian couldn’t read any further. He knew who was behind this move. Bloody Gold, the beast who killed his Milah and took his hand, was still playing games with him. It was one of his favourite things to do: fuck with the man who fucked his wife.

He would never get over how having endless funds could apparently absolve you of any sin. That, combined with powerful allies (a mixture of establishment school friends and power-hungry fools who’d been suckered in by one-sided deals), made him untouchable. He had never even gone to court for his part in the death of his ex-wife and maiming of her lover. Killian’s protests of Gold’s guilt had been taken as merely the ravings of a man crushed by grief. 

Everyone had indulged him kindly, until they hadn’t. 

The principal and president of King’s College himself had come to Killian to explain how his vendetta against the eminent philanthropist harmed not only his future prospects but threatened his entire faculty’s continued existence. Gold’s generous grants were vital to the university, as he was reminded, and it wouldn’t do to upset the man.

So Killian had chosen to play the long game. Almost as soon as Milah was killed, he had sworn to himself that he would use his research to find a way to save her life. And after months of enduring Gold’s bullying, he had also made it his mission to destroy the man while he did it. 

It was so much easier to smile and make nice where necessary when he could picture how he might one day rip Gold’s throat out. 

Reductions in funding could be brushed aside as he enhanced his prosthetic so that it moved as fluidly as his remaining hand - and was more deadly than it could ever be. Academic papers that were blocked from publication without justification became but a minor nuisance as he trained to take on Gold’s henchmen. Applications for grants and proposals to present research that were denied were just mild irritations while he worked on the time machine that would bring all his plans to fruition.

Killian scrunched the letter up and threw it into the bin, then dragged his hand through his hair.

The end of the academic year. That was only one month away. He had one month to make his time machine work or 10 years of endless toil - and his only chance to save his love - would have all been for nothing.

He had been without his Milah for longer than he’d been with her now, but he still felt her loss as keenly as the night he lost her. The sound of her voice may be dimming in his memory, but the way she made him feel would never fade, his love for her would never die. At times, he felt as though Gold had reached right into him and ripped his heart from his chest back then. In its place was a black hole that allowed for no love, no joy and certainly no mercy.

Belle, Robin, Will, and the rest had no idea what they were dealing with when they tried to play matchmaker. When they tried to get him out of his shell and having fun. When they tried to make him live his life like a respectable member of society.

Oh, if only they knew.

Killian had always been a man of many vices: drink, gambling, sex. But then Milah had come along. She had changed him, had made him better. He still indulged, but in a socially respectable fashion and not with the crazed air of a man on the brink of destruction. When she died, he could practically feel his friends holding their breath, waiting for the wildfire to ignite. What they didn’t know - couldn’t know - was that he had something else to keep him going now: her rescue and his revenge.

His head felt fuzzy, the hangover from his earlier desperate binge already kicking in. This was why he had abstained. He couldn’t afford to feel like this. Not when Milah needed him.

He closed his eyes and remembered the first time he saw her. 

_ His head was swimming after several hours of shots and pints and god knows what else. Yet, one look at her and everything became clearer. She was sat in a corner, looking lonely and nervous, glancing about furtively. She had looked up from her drink and caught his eye, smiling shyly and quickly looking away. She was stunning. _

_ Then a brute of a man stepped between them. _

_ Killian’s first thought had been sheer irritation at having his view of this goddess blocked. But then he noticed that the man had one hand on her shoulder, his grip harsh. _

_ Killian hadn’t stopped to think before racing over to her. As he moved closer, he could see that his instinct about this man had been right: she looked anxious and annoyed. _

_ He tapped the giant on the shoulder, smiling brightly at him when he turned around. _

_ “Excuse me, would you mind letting go of this lovely lady?” Killian winked at her and was delighted to see a faint blush and a barely suppressed smile cross over her face. “Once you’ve done that, could you go… well, anywhere else?” Definitely not his wittiest line, but Killian was just impressed that he managed to sound clear and confident.  _

_ A confused expression crossed over the man’s face and he did indeed let the lady go. “Were you talking to me?” _

_ “I’m sorry, did I talk too fast? You’ve managed to take your hand off the lady, excellent work. 10 out of 10 for that. Now all that’s left is for you to kindly fuck off.” _

_ “And what if I don’t?” _

_ “Well…” Killian tilted his head to the side, as if musing on the question. But then he balled his hand up into a fist, punched the man hard and knocked him to the ground.  _

_ He looked up at the woman who had captured his attention. Her eyes were wide with fear and, if he wasn’t mistaken, admiration. She stared at him in shock for a moment before speaking. _

_ “You shouldn’t have done that.” _

_ “He shouldn’t have been touching you without your consent.” All of a sudden Killian panicked; he knew how the situation had looked, but perhaps she hadn’t been a damsel in distress after all? “I mean, you looked very unhappy about him being here, did I get that wrong?” _

_ “No, you were right. But you shouldn’t have done that.” _

_ “Why not?” _

_ “He’s one of my husband’s men sent to bring me home.” She spat out the words, her eyes darting around the room as if checking for others. After a few moments of searching and presumably finding nothing, she seemed to relax. _

_ While Killian did note this odd behaviour, he was more preoccupied by the word “husband”. He felt his face fall. Of course this goddess was unavailable. She looked up at him and grinned wickedly. _

_ “I wasn’t ready to go home anyway. Want to have a drink with me … ?” _

_ “I’m Killian,” he supplied, looking down at her left hand to see a ring stubbornly placed on her finger. “And you’re married.” _

_ “My name’s Milah, actually.” _

_ Killian laughed at that. “It’s lovely to meet you, Milah.” _

That had been the start of a dark and dangerous affair that had ultimately led to his Milah’s death. Killian squeezed his eyes together, fighting back tears. Even before her untimely end, he had wondered if his presence in her life was more trouble than it was worth, but she had always reassured him that his love had made her complete. He had certainly felt that way about her - and with her gone, he was broken and could never be whole again.

He needed Milah back, and time was running out. What better time than the present to go back to the past?

He didn’t stop to consider the obvious factors working against him: he was tired, stressed and intoxicated. He was fairly certain that “drunk in charge of a time machine” went against some kind of time traveller rule.

(Probably up there with “don’t change the past”, but he was hardly going to obey that one, was he?)

Then there was the small matter that he hadn’t yet managed a successful test. Most of the time, he would switch the machine on and nothing would happen.

But every now and then, it would glitch and cause odd ripples in the world around him. His educated guess about the strange phenomenon was that the machine was swapping his particles with particles of Killian Jones from alternative universes - pulling pieces of some other him into this one. One time his prosthetic shimmered and mutated into a hook and back again before he could so much as groan at the cliché. Another time, he went colour blind for a few hours. Once his hair mysteriously turned blonde for a week until he could recalibrate the machine. 

(He had to wonder at the alternative version of him who thought  _ that  _ was a good look. He assumed in that reality Killian Jones did not have a friend like Will Scarlet, intent on mocking him relentlessly.)

But he was confident that his calculations were all correct now. This time he would manage it.

He grabbed the bag that he had packed long ago with everything he needed to exact his revenge and stumbled down to the tube. The air was oppressive in the underground station thanks to the late July heat as he waited for his train. He swayed, swallowed down a wave of nausea and cursed himself for choosing the hellish heat over cycling to campus as he usually did. Some sensible part of him had realised that he didn’t have the wit needed to cycle through London traffic - and yet that self-preservation instinct wasn’t strong enough to stop him from propelling himself on a dangerous quest.

The dry, hot wind of the approaching train provided some relief even as it burnt his skin. He clambered aboard and settled into an empty seat. He was grateful for the unspoken British rule that one must sit as far away from other living souls as was physically possible and never, upon pain of death, make eye contact with or talk to strangers. And so, he made it to Embankment station without once having to so much as glance at another human, instead ruminating on calculations and probabilities in his head.

The air outside was only marginally more refreshing than that below ground. It didn’t have that stale, recycled quality, but it was thick with humidity and the scent of melting tarmac. He tugged at his collar and loosened yet another button on his shirt. In his rush to leave, he had failed to change out of the shirt he had fallen asleep in and he could smell alcohol and sweat in the fabric. It suddenly felt inauspicious to greet his lost love in such crumpled clothes, but time was against him. He had to press on.

No one stopped him as he made his way into the nearly deserted building. The undergrads were home for the summer, so the halls were stalked only by the professors who finally had time to do their real work, students plugging away at their doctorates and the unlucky few who needed to retake exams using the month before resits to study hard. At this time of night in particular, few were to be seen in the Strand, unless, of course, they were haunting the bars that were littered in and around campus instead of devoting themselves to academia.

Killian Jones had long since accepted that his habits fell far out of the realm of what most considered normal. And to be completely honest? He couldn’t care less.

He finally made his way to his lab, unlocking the door with a buzz of excitement. It was finally happening.

He strode straight to the machine, stashing his bag in the footwell then climbing inside and buckling in.

He took a deep breath, staring blankly at the calendar on the wall in front of him. He had long thought about this moment. He knew exactly when he needed to go to: one week before Milah’s death. Enough time to get to Gold and stop him, but not long enough to risk meeting himself. He hoped anyway.

He paused for a moment, suddenly realising how reckless this was. He hadn’t run any last checks. No one knew what he was doing.

But then he thought of Milah. She deserved this.

He input the coordinates and hit the command to send.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then lights began to swirl in front of him, moving fast enough to make him dizzy. He saw a beam of light shooting out from the machine and blasting through a window - that certainly hadn’t happened before. He hoped that was a sign of success, he really didn’t want to have to clean up the mess if it wasn’t. Then, just as suddenly as the light show had started, it stopped. Everything went still.

_ Had it worked? _

Killian cautiously stepped out of the time machine and looked around. He was still in the lab surrounded by his equipment. His eyes flicked to the calendar on the wall. It stubbornly continued to read 2017 and he knew this attempt had failed.

He clenched his jaw in an attempt to keep the tears from his eyes. He’d let Milah down. Again. After all these years, he still couldn’t save her. If this hadn’t worked, he honestly didn’t know if anything would.

“It didn’t work,” he muttered to himself, racking his brain for something,  _ anything _ , that he had done wrong. He must have miscalculated something, but he had been so sure he had it this time. “Why didn’t it bloody work?” He swept his hand across the nearest counter, sending everything scattering to the floor in his frustration.

His head pounded and his stomach turned, reminding him of how much alcohol he’d consumed. He knew he should stay, should try to understand his mistake for Milah’s sake, but he just couldn’t. His soul was weary with the weight of yet another failure, of carrying the burden of his revenge alone, of the sad and empty existence his life had become.

Tears pricked at his eyes and his chest ached with anger. If only Gold hadn't interfered again, pushing him to act before he was ready... This was all his fault.

_ No, it's _ yours, whispered a voice from somewhere deep inside.  _ This is  _ your _ failure. Why did you ever think that you could achieve the impossible? _

The whispers of his inner tormentor grew louder and more cruel, detailing his faults, all the ways he let down those he loved, and showing him that he could never have his happy life back. He had done too much, been too distant, his life was empty because he made it so. The vicious narrative overwhelmed him until he felt physically sick.

He needed to get out of there, so he left, leaving his supplies and the shattered remains of his window scattered across the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words and excitement about this fic - I love reading your comments!

Killian was so lost in his own self-loathing that he failed to notice the woman in front of him whose hair changed from jet black to platinum blonde in the blink of an eye as he stepped out of the building and walked right past her. It could hardly come as a surprise when he then almost didn’t see yet another strange woman approaching him either. He was dimly aware of her, somewhere in his peripheral vision, but as a seasoned Londoner, he was adept at avoiding others without ever really seeing them. 

“What realm is this? Where is the sorcerer who brought me here?” She had stepped right in front of him, forcing him to look at her. He glanced up, confused by her bizarre question, ready to tell her where to go - using colourful language if necessary - but stopped short when he looked into her eyes.

They were stunning. A beautiful, delicate shade of green made all the prettier by the angry spark of defiance he saw there. His heart beat a little faster at the very sight in a way it hadn’t done since -

Since Milah.

He winced at the thought, scolding his treacherous body for responding to another woman. He took a deep breath to steady himself, tearing his gaze away from her eyes and looking at a point somewhere over her shoulder. He couldn’t trust himself to look upon her right now.

“Sorry, lass, what did you say?”

“Are you deaf? I need you to tell me where I am and where I can find the sorcerer who brought me here.”

In spite of himself, his eyes snapped back to hers, incredulity seeping out of him. “S - sorcerer?!” 

He looked her up and down then, noticing her strange garb for the first time. She had on a pair of sinfully tight trousers tucked into knee high boots. He might have thought that the vintage look of them was just some kind of trendy hipster thing if it weren’t for the rest of the outfit. 

Her peasant blouse was covered by a blue leather tunic with curious fastenings. The belt that was knotted about her waist had a small pouch and a scabbard dangling from it and he could see the handle of the knife that was sheathed within it. Thick leather gloves were laced up to her elbows and were embellished with elaborate swirls that looked a little like hooks - or perhaps swans. Her whole outfit looked grimey, as though she had been rolling around in mud in it. If she was some kind of historical reenactment enthusiast, she’d really gone all out. She even smelled faintly of forest - that was another level of dedication.

Then it clicked in his head, this must be some kind of interactive street performance. Guerilla theatre or some such shit. He did not have the energy to care. He pushed past her, muttering, “there’s no sorcerers here, love.”

He thought that was the end of it, when she grabbed him by the arm. “Please, you must have seen something!” She sounded desperate, her eyes pleading. In spite of himself, Killian found himself softening to her. “There was a huge portal up there -” she gestured upwards “- you know, the big light show? It would have been hard to miss.”

Killian wasn’t listening, he was staring straight at the point she’d indicated. The broken window of his lab.

_ Fuck, what have I done? _

“You!” His head was forcibly yanked backwards by his hair, the knife he had spied in the stranger’s scabbard now pressed to his throat. He froze, calming his breathing so that the sharp edge didn’t slice him.

“I take it by your tone -” he winced as speaking brought his adam’s apple closer to the blade “- that I said that out loud?”

“You bet you did,” she hissed into his ear. “I am Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest, and you have a lot of explaining to do, sorcerer. Kidnapping a crown princess is considered treason where I’m from.” She pressed the knife ever so slightly closer for just a moment in warning, before easing the pressure again. “Now, if you could see your way to sending me home, we can forget this ever happened.”

She released his hair, which gave him just enough movement to spin in her arms so that they were pressed close together, his face inches from hers. If his mind hadn’t been racing, trying to come up with a solution to their problem and to understand what he had actually done, he might have enjoyed the feeling.

As it was, he needed to devise a plan to fix this mistake. He had no idea how this had happened and he certainly wasn’t clear on how to reverse it, especially not while his head was throbbing and he had alcohol and disappointment coursing through his veins. Her very presence was a reminder of his failure and he wanted her gone perhaps even more than she wanted to get home herself.

In the meantime, considering that the stranger - Princess Emma - had a deadly weapon and apparently murderous intent, it seemed wise to opt for diplomacy with her. He smoothed his face into what he hoped was an open and reassuring one.

“Lass, we seem to have got off on the wrong foot. My name’s Dr Killian Jones, and this is all a misunderstanding. I didn’t intend - or want - to bring you here. If you release me, I can try to find a way to send you back.”

She looked warily at him, not loosening her grip at all. “How - how do I know this isn’t a trick?”

“You don’t, but either we can stand here and cuddle all day -” at this, Princess Emma gasped a little at his words, almost letting go in her shock, before her eyes hardened and she clung on tighter. “It’s ok, love, I know it must be hard to keep your hands off me, I am devilishly handsome.” He winked and she rolled her eyes in return. It was fun teasing her, he was out of practice to be sure, but this felt a whole lot like flirting. The thought sobered him up at once. His mission, he had to focus on his mission. “I was meant to travel in time to my love, my Milah, and rescue her. But it seems I brought you here instead. If you would accompany me to my lab, I’m sure we can send you home.”

He really, really hoped he could send her home. He needed her out of his hair so he could forget about the latest setback to his mission and soothe his aching head with pain killers and pints and pints of water.

“You expect me to go to the er  _ lab _ -” she spoke deliberately, looking uncertain, like the word was unfamiliar to her “- of the crazy sorcerer who thinks he can travel in time and claims to have brought me here accidentally?”

“Once again, there are no sorcerers here, love. No magic at all in fact. Unless you count all that David Blaine shit, which I don’t -”

“- there’s no magic here?” Princess Emma cut him off. She looked around her in wonder. “So you’re telling me that this realm is the Land Without Magic?”

It was hard not to feel irritated by this bizarre turn of events. This entire day had been a disaster and now he had some delusional alleged royal talking to him in riddles. He stared hard at her trying to fathom the meaning of her words.

“You’re in England - the UK - Great Britain - the former British Empire… I don’t know what you mean when you say the Land Without Magic.”

“The realm? There are several. The place where I’m from - the Enchanted Forest - is one, this realm is another, there’s also Neverland, Oz -”

Killian could feel his blood boiling as she began talking fairytale nonsense. Had he even done anything to this woman? Was she really here? Perhaps the strain of all that had happened in his past was finally getting to him and he had finally had a mental break. Maybe this was all an illusion brought about by a desperate binge on the rum after his ultimate failure.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair and tried to temper his frustration. They were still talking on the street and he would prefer not to cause a scene. Not to mention the recent memory of her dagger against his throat had him loathe to antagonise her.

“Wait. Stop.” He cut her off, unwilling to hear more. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath in a bid to stay calm. “All these  _ realms _ you’re talking about are from bloody storybooks.”

She shrugged, unperturbed by his accusation. “Of course they are.”

“What?” He curled his lips, raising his brows and widening his eyes, utterly incredulous.

“Don’t you have history books? What are they but stories?”

“History books are documents of factual events that actually occurred. Storybooks are just -” he gesticulated wildly, searching the air for the words “- fiction.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that the victors write the history books? I’m sure there’s a lot that doesn’t get put in those history books - or that people who were alive at the time would question.”

His teeth were starting to hurt from clenching his jaw so hard. This woman was perhaps the most frustrating creature he’d ever met.

“Look, I am finding your stories a little hard to believe right now, and I’m not entirely sure that I believe that I really did somehow create a portal that brought you from your, what did you call it?”

“The Enchanted Forest.”

He ignored this descriptor, it was just too ridiculous. “Your  _ realm _ . But I can tell you this: I’m willing to put aside my doubts and try to get you home.”

“But if you don’t have magic…”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension caused by this whole situation, before looking up at her with a challenging smirk. “Why don’t you try something new, love? It’s called trust.”

The princess raised her eyebrows a little and huffed her annoyance, but apparently could find no comeback. “Fine,” she eventually replied, “but don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for one second.”

Killian grinned at that. “Oh, believe me, I would despair if you did.”

He turned before he could see her response and stormed back inside. 

Killian wondered as he made his way back to his lab what he should do. Presumably, if he were to repeat his last actions in the time machine precisely, he would see the same effect. He didn’t glance back until he reached the door of his lab, when he saw that she still had her knife in her hand. He raised his eyebrows, but chose to say nothing.

He opened the door with a flourish, gesturing for her to enter before him. He watched amused as she cautiously stepped into the room, looking bewildered and taking in the broken glass on the floor with dismay.

“It’s … nice.”

“It’s not usually such a mess.”

“Right.”

An awkward silence fell between them and Killian turned to his time machine, busying himself with the controls. “I need to go into my time machine -”

“- realm jumper -”

“- what?”

“Your machine. It doesn’t send you through time, it opens portals to other realms. Surely you’ve worked that out by now?”

He gaped at her, stunned. When she put it like that, of course it  _ was  _ obvious. All the misadventures he’d experienced, they all came down to one thing: some kind of shifting between universes - or realms, as she seemed determined to call them.

And yet...

He felt like a little piece of him died in that moment. The stubborn piece of him that had hope for Milah, that had so long denied that she was truly dead, truly lost to him. And with that death came the horrible realisations:

He was nowhere near building a time machine. 

A month wouldn’t be long enough. 

He wasn’t sure an entire lifetime would be. 

He couldn’t rescue Milah.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, the realisation driving splinters deep into his heart, piercing the walls that had been keeping the agony of her loss from overwhelming him. He fiddled with the ring on his prosthetic, it was all he had left of her now. A ring, some memories, and so much pain and regret.

He just needed to switch his machine on and get this woman away from him so he could fall apart in peace.

“I - well, I guess it is. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go inside and switch it on. You should see a beam of light blasting out from the front of this machine and your portal should open just outside that window. Stand out of the way until it does, if you can’t jump into it from here, we’ll figure out another way on the next run.” His words came out in a rush and he didn’t stop to ask if she had any questions.

Luckily, she seemed to take them all in. She nodded and positioned herself close to - but away from - the window. He stepped into his machine and closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath, double checked that everything was the same as his previous test and hit send.

He saw the same beam, the same swirling lights. “It’s working!” yelled the princess, gleefully. He watched as she climbed up to the window sill, peering down into the portal, apparently trying to figure out if she could make the jump. “Oh, wait, fuck! Turn it off!” She jumped down and ran to the machine. “Turn it off, NOW!”

Killian blinked, startled by this strange command. “Why?”

That’s when he saw the flames. He slammed the controls off just a second too late to stop the dragon from emerging from the portal. 

_ Bloody hell.  _

He climbed out of the machine, moving closer to the dragon, equally transfixed and aghast. 

Its thick, scaly skin was black, which only highlighted the piercing, gleaming gold of its wide-set and heavy-lidded eyes. Not for the first time that night, he found himself completely lost in a pair of hypnotic eyes. But where the princess’ eyes were enchanting, these were toxic, poisonous, drawing him in and enticing him to his doom.

He didn’t even notice he had been moving towards the window, entranced, until he felt a pair of arms wrap tight around him. He was pulled back against a soft body, away from the window and away from damnation. For now.

“Killian! Killian!” the princess shouted in his ear. He blinked hard, trying to shake off the stupor caused by looking into the dragon's eyes. “Open another portal!” She shoved him towards his machine. “If you're quick, it'll pull the dragon back in, I can follow and we'll both be out of your hair.”

He turned towards the task at hand, opening yet another portal. He watched the now familiar lights that showed him opening a door to another world. He needed this to work - something had to go right for him today.

The flames came within seconds of him switching the machine on, rolling through the room and straight towards him. He leapt from the machine as dragon fire engulfed it.

He closed his eyes and dropped to the floor, crawling from the heat; all his thoughts focused on survival.

He kept his eyes shut for a long time, long after the blinding flames with their dazzling heat subsided. He was as yet unwilling to confront the damage and deal with the repercussions. All his time, effort, and research gone up in flames. Literally.

He just had to hope that the dragon was gone. There was nothing he could do to help now.

“Are you going to stay in there all night? Or are you going to help me fix this mess?”

He looked up in shock at the sound of her voice. Why was she still here? How did she survive the dragon attack? “Princess? What? How? Why didn't you go home?”

“You think I'd leave you to deal with a dragon on your own?  _ Please,  _ you couldn't handle it.”

A desire to tease and taunt flared up in him _.  _ He didn't know what he expected of royalty, but it certainly wasn't _ this _ . She certainly was a feisty one, much like -  _ like Milah _ . The thought sobered him up at once.

“You have no idea what I'm capable of, love,” he replied flatly. “You'd do well not to underestimate me.”

She smirked at him, raking her eyes over his form then meeting his eyes. Her deeply unimpressed expression was belied by the twinkle in her eyes. She crossed her arms over herself and cocked her head at him. “All I see is an incompetent sorcerer who doesn't know the difference between time travel and realm jumping. Or am I wrong?”

He growled a little, irked by her repeated insistence on calling him a sorcerer. “You’re damn wrong, I’m no sorcerer, I’m a  _ scientist _ . An actual, real scientist, doing important work -” she scoffed “- not like your magic and fairytale nonsense. And you’re one to talk, are you  _ sure  _ you’re a princess? You don’t really seem to have the whole -” he waved his hand with a flourish “- regal act down.”

For a brief moment she looked the tiniest bit uncertain and ashamed, but that soon melted away into a fiery rage. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise incompetence was just a general characteristic of the people in your world. Clearly here someone can set out to do one thing and instead bring a fucking dragon through a portal and still be considered a success.” Killian’s nostrils flared, but he bit his tongue and let her speak. “However, where I come from, we’ve got slightly higher standards and our rulers can actually lead and defend their people. Of course, if you don’t need my help, just open another portal and I’ll be on my way. If you do, you’ll watch your tone and do as I say.”

Killian gaped at her and gestured helplessly to the charred remains of his work. Suggesting that he should “just open another portal” was a low blow. 

But, as much as her words cut him deep, they only hurt so much because they were true and he couldn’t deny it. He needed to keep this infuriating woman around so she could help him to fix his own mistakes. Once they had gotten rid of the bloody fire-breathing pain in his ass, he could send her back and clean up the ashes of his former life.

If sending either of them back was even possible, that is.

He gritted his teeth and plastered on an overly bright, clearly fake grin. He bowed elaborately, keeping his eyes on her to watch her reaction. The slightest quirk of her eyebrow suggested she was unimpressed with his show of deference, but unwilling to call him out on his mockery. “As you wish,  _ Your Highness. _ So tell me: what do we do now?”

“Right now?” She looked around the room. “I think you have some cleaning to do, Killian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! So Killian's met Emma - what did you think? Leave me a comment or come say hi on tumblr [@katie-dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/) (or both!)  
> This fic has been made as part of this year's Captain Swan Big Bang and the absolutely lovely [@princesse-swan](https://princesse-swan.tumblr.com/) has made stunning artwork to go with this - please go admire it and flail at her!  
> The incomparable [@distant-rose](https://distant-rose.tumblr.com/) and [@ultraluckycatnd](https://ultraluckycatnd.tumblr.com/) were my betas and a small army of friends helped me to bring this to life. Thank you all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been amazing to read all your reactions to the last chapter, thank you all for reading and letting me know what you think! Now let's see how Killian and Princess Emma are getting on...

Killian sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time that night. He was fed up with being yelled at by bloody royalty. Over the past few hours, she’d had plenty of thoughts on what a failure he was.

Still, it would be slightly easier to tolerate her if she wasn’t right all the bloody time. 

He wanted an excuse to rage at her. She was the one who had forced him to see what he had not managed to alone: his mission was unsuccessful; it probably would never be successful. But how could he argue with perfectly reasonable suggestions like sealing up the now empty window frame in his lab when “or are there no thieves in this world?” was spoken with an infuriatingly innocent smile?

At least when Princess Emma was driving him insane with demands he could forget that he actually quite fancied her. It felt wrong to even consider appreciating anyone in that way on the same night that he found himself finally needing to come to terms with the idea that Milah’s death might indeed be permanent.

Now, though, they could finally leave.

Killian was just about to arrange an uber when it hit him: what on earth was he meant to do with Emma? His one bedroom flat was tiny - spacious enough for his needs, but his sofa would hardly make a comfortable bed for either one of them. And he wasn’t entirely sure he could trust himself to share his bed with her.

But he wasn’t made of money and bearing in mind the day’s news, he needed to be far more cautious with how he spent what he had. The cost of any hotel in London at this short notice would be far more painful than a night sleeping on the sofa.

He wondered if it would be too much to ask one of his friends to give her a room, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Not only had he probably lost all favour privileges with them all long ago, but also he couldn’t think of any of them to ask.

Belle was an immediate no. Perhaps on a good day he could’ve swung it, but after the catastrophe of skipping out on her book club  _ after  _ the last minute, tonight was not the time. Besides, she’d have too many questions for both of them - and he wasn’t prepared to reveal his mission to anyone.

His cousin Will would be more than happy to give shelter to a stunning lass like Emma. But he knew that his and Will’s ideas of appropriate sleeping arrangements were incompatible - and Emma was sure to see things his way. He wasn’t worried for Emma’s safety, although he suspected that Will might be missing his favourite part of his anatomy come the morning if she were to stay there.

Robin and Regina with their stunning Knightsbridge home would be able to give Emma a temporary home befitting her regal status. But Regina was almost certain to turn her nose up at the princess’ attire - one time Robin came home from a stag weekend out in the forest and Regina was complaining about the lingering smell for weeks. Not to mention they had little Roland to consider. It hardly seemed fair to bring a strange armed woman into their home, especially one he wasn’t entirely confident he could vouch for. It was practically the definition of bad form.

So, his place it was.

He knew this was a bad idea. He didn’t want to be this close to this woman for any longer than necessary. Sadly, when she was only stuck far from home because of him, to help him, he had no choice but to help her in return.

If only he knew how to play things. His typical move was to flirt and smirk but this one gave as good as she got and had him on the back foot. He just needed to play it straight and try not to get into another argument.

“So, Your Highness -”

“- can you just - my name’s Emma Swan, just stop with the princess stuff.”

He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise - it was, after all, how she’d introduced herself to him. As Princess Emma of … somewhere. He ran his tongue along his teeth trying to bite back a retort at the way she’d changed her tune. It was far too late to have any further arguments.

(Besides, the name seemed more than fitting to him. Once as a child he’d been scared away from feeding some ducks in a park by a vicious swan who had hissed and beat its wings at him. The combination of supreme beauty and fighting spirit was something the lovely creature before him shared.)

“Fine.  _ Swan _ , it’s late and I need to sleep. So do you I imagine, unless people in your realm don’t need sleep?” She shot him a withering look in reply that made him chuckle. “I don’t have a palace, but I have a place that you can stay. It’s warm, dry, safe, and there’s food. So, what do you say, love? Want to come back to my place?” He winced at the unintentional line that fell out of his mouth. 

Emma was watching him appraisingly. It made him feel a little uncomfortable. After a moment, she came to her decision, replying “sure” noncommittally.

It was near dark outside and Killian just needed to be home as quickly as possible. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and opened up uber, selecting a driver that was just three minutes away from them.

“Right, by the time we’ve locked up and made it outside, our uber should be waiting for us.” He looked up then to see Emma schooling her face into something neutral. Before that though, he had definitely seen her gazing curiously at the phone in his hand. “It’s a phone, love. You use it for talking to people and … other things.”

She shrugged, feigning indifference, but he smirked to himself. It seemed that wherever she was from wasn’t as technologically advanced as this universe. He knew he was being childish, but he felt a little smug to think that she was going to find some things that she didn’t quite understand. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten under his skin like this, or rather, he could, and he wasn’t willing for this woman to take the other’s place.

The thought wasn't one he was willing to dwell on.

Sure enough, their uber was waiting when they reached the street. Killian instinctively reached down to open the door for Emma, looking up in confusion when she didn't climb inside.

“Everything alright, love?”

She was biting her lip and casting her eyes over the car warily. “What, what is this? Some kind of horseless carriage?”

“Aye, it's exactly that. Now, get in, we haven't got all day.”

She rolled her eyes at him, looking like she was restraining herself from throwing her own jibe at him. She awkwardly climbed into the car and as he followed her in, Killian once again found himself questioning Emma's royal status. True, he could think of no reason for her to lie, but something didn't feel right all the same. Didn't princesses get sent to finishing school or something? Shouldn't she carry herself with just a little more grace? That school of thought seemed hopelessly outdated, but then when her own look was best described as medieval chic, he expected her upbringing to be the same.

The curiosity occupied him for the entirety of their short journey home, shooting furtive glances her way and playing with the ring on his prosthetic.

As they made their way up to his flat he began to feel inexplicably nervous. It must be that his musings on Emma’s title on their way had him on edge about welcoming a monarch into his modest home.

(He was unwilling to consider that there could be anything else to it.)

He took a deep breath and pushed his nerves aside, unwilling to show himself up in front of anyone. He wasn’t a silly schoolboy and it took more than simply being near a pretty girl to fluster him.

He threw open the door with a flourish. “Your castle for the night m’lady.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but he could see a small smile on her face as she walked past. Inexplicably he felt warm inside. He felt for his ring again, using it to ground himself. Milah. He only had feelings for Milah.

He took a deep breath and followed her inside. “The door straight ahead is to the living room and kitchen, this one here is to the bedroom and this one is to the bathroom.” He indicated doors to his right and left respectively while he spoke. Emma nodded but lingered in the hallway looking uncertain. He gestured to the living room. “After you, Swan.”

He watched her as she scrutinised the room, apparently unable to disguise her curiosity. He scratched behind his ear absentmindedly, wary of this stranger’s assessment of the space he had shared with his love. Milah’s touch was everywhere in the room, and he couldn’t bear to hear a bad word said about it. 

The set up was basic - one side of the room had a kitchenette and the other a living area with a squishy sofa draped with soft, cosy blankets in rich autumnal colours with intricate patterns. The bottle of rum from earlier was still sat on the wooden coffee table accusingly, and there were drawers hiding important documents, and assorted paraphernalia beneath. A TV sat on top of a bookcase that was neatly stuffed with books. Artwork hung on the walls - mostly Milah’s sketches, but also pieces by friends, art collected on their travels and one painting that he himself had done and Milah had begged him to hang up. For the most part, the flat was neat and tidy. He wasn’t one for displaying - or indeed, keeping - sentimental knick knacks, but he couldn’t quite bear to part with Milah’s collection, though he hadn’t added to it since her passing.

Emma was doing her best to seem totally at ease while she gazed about in awe. He wondered if she had looked like this for their whole journey over.

“I know it’s not much.”

Emma jumped at the sound of his voice then tried to disguise the action with a nonchalant shrug. “‘S’alright.”

“You do say the sweetest things, Swan. Quit with the praise before you make me blush. Did they teach you compliments at princess school?” 

She had been suppressing a smirk, but her face darkened at once at his use of the word “princess”, and she turned back to examining his room with a scowl. 

She really was an odd creature, he mused. Her status should demand a certain level of attention and respect that she didn’t seem used to. She hardly seemed born to the role, and yet, he hadn’t noticed any kind of ring suggesting she had married into it. So why did he recognise that look of an orphan about her - the one he saw reflected back at him every time he looked in the mirror?

He couldn’t contain the yawn that escaped him, interrupting his thoughts. The enigma that was Emma Swan could be puzzled out tomorrow. Right now, he needed to sleep.

“Right, it’s definitely time for bed.” If he thought she looked irked before, she was positively fuming now.

“I am not getting into bed with you.”

He sighed at her words. He just couldn’t get anything right with her, could he? “I didn’t… That isn’t what I meant. We both need to sleep. You can take my bed and I will sleep on the sofa.” He pointed to the sofa to underline his point.

“Oh!” She blushed a little, looking a bit ashamed at the conclusion she had jumped to. “You don’t need to give up your bed for me, I can -”

“Despite what you might think of me, I am, in fact, a gentleman. Take the bed and don’t argue with me.” He rubbed his brow then looked up at her. “Please?”

“Um - I - thank you.”

His eyes flicked across the soot and ash that was still covering her after their incident with the dragon earlier. “Actually, you should probably take a shower first.”

“A what?”

He paused, and looked her up and down again. Perhaps the outdated clothing wasn’t a style choice. Maybe technology hadn’t really advanced in the Enchanted Forest.

“It’s a way to clean yourself, like an indoor waterfall that you can turn on and off?”

“Are you implying that -”

“I’m just saying that you might feel better without the layer of ash on you.” He pinched at the bridge of his nose with a sigh, becoming uncomfortably aware of how grimy he felt himself. “By all means, stay that way if you prefer, Cinderella. I, however, intend to wash.”

She gaped for a moment, looking mildly affronted, but shook herself. “I’m not Cinderella - and you really shouldn’t use that name for Queen Ella, either.” 

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Of course she would have to get the last word, and of course it would be nonsense. “I’ll remember that when I get the invite to your next royal ball. Now, shall I show you how to work the shower?”

She nodded with a studied nonchalance, although he saw the flash of unrestrained glee in her eyes that made him grin.

He led her into the bathroom and pointed at the first knob. “Turn it this way to make the water hotter -”

“You can change the temperature of the water?” 

He grinned over his shoulder at her and gave her a wink. “Like it hot do you?” She rolled her eyes at him and he turned back to focus on showing her the controls. “If you turn it this way, the water will get colder. Where it is right now is a nice warm shower, but feel free to change it. Turn this -” he pointed at the appropriate knob, “- this way to turn the shower on and this way to turn it off.” While he spoke he turned the water off and on again, before turning back to Emma. “Does that all make sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

“It’s usually a good idea to leave the water running for a few minutes to heat up before you get in.”

Cautiously, she reached forward and turned the shower on. She smiled to herself, clearly proud at having done it right.

“I’ll just grab you something to wear tonight and a towel,” he said. She nodded but didn’t seem to be listening, gazing at the shower entranced.

When he came back in with a t-shirt and clean towels, she was still stood by the shower, holding a hand in the water, a look of awe in her eyes.

“I’ll just leave these here,” Killian said, placing the towels down on the counter by the sink. 

He was almost out the door when she spoke. “Where does the water come from?” 

He stopped, confused and glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see that she looked entirely sincere. “From the taps…?”

“Oh, right.” She paused, biting her lip in deep thought. “Where do the taps get the water from?”

“Er… I don’t exactly know. A water treatment plant of some kind, I expect?” She frowned and he sighed. It really was far too late to attempt to explain the country’s water infrastructure - especially when his own knowledge of it was limited. “I just turn on the taps and the water comes out. It doesn’t really matter to me how it got there.”

Emma’s eyes went wide. “Are you  _ sure  _ you aren’t a sorcerer? That does sound like magic.”

He laughed and held up one hand in a salute. “Scout’s honour, love.” Her nose crinkled just a tad in confusion. 

_ Right, perhaps you need to stop making cultural references that she could never understand, you prat. _

“I’ll leave you to it then, Swan. Good night.”

He turned to go, but felt her hand grab his and give it a tight squeeze. He raised his eyebrows expectantly as he looked back at her. “Thanks for taking care of me.” She spoke quickly, then dropped his hand and turned back to the shower.

“No problem. Take as long as you need.” He quickly ducked out of the bathroom, ostensibly to give her privacy, but also so he could shake himself out of the sudden stupor caused by her touch.

He went back into his room and pulled out some spare bedding, getting everything settled on the sofa. When he heard the bathroom door open again, he looked up and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her bare legs as she slipped into his room.

It was past midnight when he was eventually ready for bed, but his mind was frazzled. He shifted awkwardly on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

He had failed Milah.

He had had so much to deal with since that first crashing realisation had hit, but now there was nothing to stop it. He choked back a sob. He deeply regretted not buying more rum to numb his brain into sleep and instead lay awake in the dark feeling the cracks in his heart reopen and his whole being give into despair.

_ Killian was lounging in bed with Milah, basking in the afterglow of a very enthusiastic round of love making. As he gently stroked her arm, his thoughts turned to the diamond ring he had carefully hidden away, ready to give to her after their special anniversary dinner.  _

_ He smiled dreamily, imagining making some grand romantic gesture and getting down on one knee in front of everyone. In the fantasy, she would of course say yes to his wonderfully eloquent speech that was dripping with romance and everyone would applaud and toast them with champagne. _

_ In reality, he was going to ask in a beautiful little park on their way home. He was still going to get down on one knee (call him old fashioned, but he just felt some things had to be done a certain way), but it was to be a small, intimate affair. Public displays of romance were not the done thing when the woman you love is technically already married and her estranged husband is a psychotic brute with eyes and ears everywhere. Asking Milah for her hand at all was a risky move, and Killian would completely understand if she could not accept. Still though, he longed to see his ring on her finger, even if they could never take the next step and become Mr and Mrs Jones. _

_ Milah nuzzled against him. “What are you smiling about Killian? You look like the cat that got the cream.” _

_ Killian pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead gently. “I have the most beautiful woman in the world naked in my bed and sated from my legendary love making skills. Why wouldn’t I smile?” _

_ She swatted at him, giggled, then swiftly moved so she was straddling him. She cocked an eyebrow at him, “Legendary, you say? Tell me: who are these other women who have the pleasure of sampling your skills?” _

_ “None but you, my love.” Killian placated her by pulling her down for a kiss. When she was settled against him contentedly, he continued his teasing. “Now, at least. When you took me off the market sobs were heard all around the British Isles.” _

_ Milah snorted then tickled him in response. Soon the joint tickle fight turned into yet another display of Killian’s prowess. When they both settled down side by side, Killian couldn’t resist panting out with a wink. “See? Legendary.” _

“Dr Jones, Dr Jones, calling Dr Jones. Dr Jones, Dr Jones, get up now. Wake up now!”

For the second time in as many days, Killian was woken from dreaming about Milah by his bloody phone. Why couldn’t everyone just fuck off and let him sleep? At least in his dreams he could be with Milah again. It seemed like the only time he was truly happy these days.

He scowled down at it to see that Will was calling.  _ Of course. _ It didn’t matter how many times he changed Will’s ringtone back to the default setting, the bloody wanker always found a way to switch it again without him noticing.

“I hate you,” he growled into the phone, his voice thick with sleep.

“Did I wake you up, Dr Jones?”

“Piss off now,” Killian sang back at him in the exact tune of the Aqua song.  _ Bloody hell that song’s going to be in my head all day,  _ he cursed internally.  _ Like I didn’t have enough of a headache already. _

“You know you only talk to me like that to disguise how much you love me.”

Killian transferred his phone to his prosthetic and rubbed his hand over his face. “I really, really don’t. Now do you have a reason for calling beyond ruining my day with trashy 90s pop?”

“I think you mean  _ incredible _ 90s pop.” Will’s voice dripped with mock offense. “But yeah.. Of course. Haven’t you seen the news?”

“The news?”

“There’s a fucking dragon chillaxing on Tower Bridge, how the fuck did you miss that?”

The events of the previous day came rushing back to him.  _ Fuck. _ That had all really happened. He actually had opened a portal to another universe and brought a dragon and an angry princess into the heart of London. And now he somehow had to send them both home.

What the fuck was he going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! So Killian's met Emma - what did you think? Leave me a comment or come say hi on tumblr [@katie-dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/) (or both!)  
> This fic has been made as part of this year's Captain Swan Big Bang and the absolutely lovely [@princesse-swan](https://princesse-swan.tumblr.com/) has made stunning artwork to go with this - please go admire it and flail at her!  
> The incomparable [@distant-rose](https://distant-rose.tumblr.com/) and [@ultraluckycatnd](https://ultraluckycatnd.tumblr.com/) were my betas and a small army of friends helped me to bring this to life. Thank you all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading what you think makes my day, thank you all!  
> Things are really heating up with this chapter - hold on to your hats, we're off to find a dragon!

“Jones … Killian … You still there mate?”

“Aye.” He faltered, looking up at the sound of his bedroom door opening. Emma was standing there in just his t-shirt and with her hair tousled from sleep. Involuntarily he wondered how much messier her hair might look if it were rumpled by something far more enjoyable than sleeping, biting his lip at the thought.

“Oh - um.” Emma tugged at the hem of the t-shirt and he averted his eyes. He felt a surge of guilt at the way he responded to her, but he just couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting … something?”

“Wait, wait, wait! Have you got a girl in your flat, Jones?” Will’s excited prattle shouted through his phone. “An actual, real girl?! Forget the dragon,  _ this  _ is the only news I care about!” 

Killian gritted his teeth at his cousin’s gleeful tone.

“Fuck off, Scarlet.”

“My little boy’s growing up and becoming a man.” Will began sniffling and Killian could picture the way the smug git would pretend to wipe tears from his eyes. “I’m so proud. I never thought my Killian would lose his vir-”

“Oi! There are plenty of deeply satisfied women across the country who would tell you I’m no virgin, but a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. I am, however, very busy right now. Bye.” He spoke in a low tone and hung up before Will could reply. He looked at Emma sheepishly. She seemed to be pretending she hadn't heard him, but the faint blush on her cheeks suggested otherwise. He couldn't decide whether or not he felt embarrassed about that, nothing wrong with a beautiful lady knowing he knew his way around a woman.  _ Not that she's going to experience that first hand, of course. _ He decided it was best not to linger on what he said. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.”

“Would you like some breakfast?” As soon as he asked her, he realised that he himself was starving.

“Yeah, I’ll just - I’ll get dressed.”

She turned and it took him a concerted effort to stop himself from blatantly checking her out. He pushed the thought of her naked in his room out of his head and got to work on making toast, focussing on the simple act to keep him from lingering on the treacherous urges of his body.

He walked back to the TV carrying a plate of buttered toast, wondering what exactly was on the news about the dragon. He prayed that nothing bad had happened to anyone.

“Bloody hell…” 

He had a slice of toast halfway to his mouth but the sight on his screen had totally distracted him from eating.

There was an aerial shot of the dragon perched on Tower Bridge, hissing and breathing fire. The police had cordoned off the bridge, but you could see a sea of people lining up along both banks of the river, phones out and all pointed at the beast.

The screen changed to a split screen format as the BBC brought out their experts to interview. The first was a bemused but delighted looking man, “Iri Smith, Reptile Handler, ZSL”, according to the on screen caption.

“So, how do you expect the dragon to react in such stressful circumstances?” the perky presenter asked.

“Er…” Poor Iri looked deeply uncomfortable. “Well, it’s hard to say, as we don’t have any dragons at London Zoo … I can tell you about the komodo dragons if you like? They might be similar…?” He trailed off, unsure of what he should say.

“Oh really?” The presenter did her best to look deeply interested in his answer, but reached a hand to her ear. “Wait, I’m just hearing that Metropolitan Police Commissioner Cora Mills has just arrived at the press conference. Sorry, Iri, we’ll get back to you.” There was a brief shot of the incredibly relieved looking Iri before that half of the screen switched to a shot of the impeccably dressed and undeniably glamorous Ms Mills.

Killian glared at the screen, setting down his toast as he lost his appetite. Once upon a time - way back when she was only the deputy assistant commissioner of specialist operations - he had tried to ingratiate himself with Cora Mills as a way to achieve his revenge on Mr Gold. If only he’d known then what was so obvious now: she was in Gold’s pocket, as were so many of her contemporaries. Getting into bed with her could never have helped him.

His jaw clenched at the thought.

He tuned out from what she was saying, gazing blankly at the screen, not really taking it all in. He was musing on how they were meant to get the dragon back through a portal. His equipment was completely ruined, and his research potentially lost for good. 

Even if he were able to recover the programmes from his damaged computers, how would he manage to rebuild the machine? It had taken months of hard work the first time, but there was an actual fire breathing dragon terrorising London right now - he had hours, at best, to do something. 

Although, it seemed more than a little harsh to say that the dragon was terrorising anyone. It seemed more bored than anything. He could’ve sworn the creature actually rolled its eyes at the terrified crowd watching it at one point. The whole situation was deeply bizarre.

Either way, those crowds added an extra layer of complication to the whole situation. They could hardly find a discreet way to send the dragon home with the whole world watching. Oh God, it would be all over the internet too wouldn’t it? #LondonDragon #LondonBridgeIsFallingDown … all that bullshit.

He sighed, squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face with his hand, trying desperately to scrub away the stress. He didn’t even fully understand how the damn machine worked - or why it had opened a portal in the first place. He was faced with the task of rebuilding it while fretting that he had made a mistake in his last build that had turned it into a realm jumper. 

And what if anyone found out that he was behind the dragon’s arrival and he was left trying to return a dragon and a princess to their proper universe from behind bars?

Bloody hell, he’d be pegged as a terrorist, and with the special surprise he’d long been planning for Gold, he could see their point. He winced at the thought of the police finding his tools - and his search history. 

He could imagine the stories now: he’d be painted as the promising young scientist who had lost his mind following the tragic loss of his partner. He shook his head. No. That was too kind for any paper owned by Gold. More likely, he would be shown as a deeply disturbed and psychotic man who had a salacious sexual affair with the wife of an upstanding citizen and allegedly murdered her when she decided to leave him. Yes, that scandalous story was much more Gold’s style, even if the actual story couldn’t be further from the truth.

Except…

He thought back on all that he had done, what he had become to save Milah, and to make the world a safe place for her again. Had he … had he become as monstrous as Gold? Would his Milah even recognise the man he had become? Would she want to?

He might not have Gold’s money or his power, but if he had, would he have tormented the man as Gold had done to him?

No.

He wanted to stab him right in his rotten heart. He wanted to destroy the man, not play with him. But that hardly made him a  _ better  _ man than Gold - perhaps he was simply more bloodthirsty.  He still carried that same lust for vengeance, that desire to right wrongs by inflicting pain, it was an ugly trait and one that Milah would never approve of.

At least Killian knew he only punished those truly worthy of it. He could accept and admit his faults, whereas Gold continually deluded himself into believing that he was the victim of his story. 

When Gold’s first wife had left him alone with their boy Baelfire, citing her deep-seated depression, he cast her as the heartless shrew who abandoned her child. He, of course, was the loving single father left to care for a boy of just eight years old alone.

It was this act that drew Milah in, hired to play nanny to the boy in her summer holidays at 19, and seduced into the older man’s arms by his guile. Soon she found herself as miserable as Gold’s first wife, sole carer to a child who quickly grew from charming child to sneering teen, when she was barely out of her teens herself. 

When Baelfire ran away from home at 15 and disappeared into the ether, Gold made it clear that it was her fault. He was such a wonderful father, providing all the boy could ever need, buying his affection and paying others to tend to him, that it must be Milah who had driven him away.

He grew cruel and cold, punishing her for his indifference to his boy and Milah shrivelled under a daily diet of mental anguish and matrimonial apathy. 

When she met Killian and rediscovered her sense of self, finding the courage in her to leave, it was Killian who was to blame. Not Gold, for of course he was the poor, defenceless multi-millionaire. He had unknowingly brought a gold-digging harpy into his home who lost his child, stole his riches, and ran off with a younger man.

Gold’s inability to see that he was the villain of his story made Killian feel sick to his stomach.

But ultimately, Killian couldn’t rise above his desire to hurt Gold, much as Gold tried to hurt him. He could dress it up as justice, but what were semantics when it came to the pointy end of a sword? His love for Milah had been all-consuming, but had time twisted it into a weapon? Could he hold her in his arms as her soft lover with a decade of hatred blackening his heart?

Maybe the failure of the machine was a blessing in disguise.

He felt the tears pricking at his eyes. It would be okay eventually. He just needed to find a way back to being the good man he used to be, the man that she loved.

“Is that a magic mirror?” Emma’s voice broke through his cloud of despair. He looked up to see her peering at the TV in wonder.

“No, love, it’s just a TV.”

“Oh right, yeah, TV.” She shrugged nonchalantly and leaned back, clearly expecting to find the wall behind her, only to stumble when it was much further away than she anticipated. She straightened up immediately with a look of “yeah, I totally meant to do that” on her face. 

Killian watched it all with amusement, smirking at her when she caught his eye, but biting his tongue. He pushed the plate of toast towards her. “Want some food?”

“Oh yeah, thanks.” Her smile of gratitude and relief seemed to be for more than just a basic breakfast, but he didn’t want to think about that now. “So, do you know anything about summoning dragons? Will Smaug follow a trail of gold and sparkling jewels to us?”

“I really don’t think you have enough treasure for that,” she mused, nibbling on some toast. “We just need to get through to Lily so she’ll shift out of dragon form.”

Killian blinked in confusion. “What? Do you - do you  _ know _ this dragon?”

Emma looked uncomfortable. “Yes. She’s one of my oldest friends - well, friends is perhaps overstating it. She and I haven’t really seen eye to eye since the whole pr -” she stopped suddenly. “Since we had a fight. Lily can be kind of a bitch.”

Killian was gaping at her in wide eyed shock. “Kind of a bitch? The fire breathing dragon who destroyed my life’s work can be  _ kind of a bitch?” _ He laughed mirthlessly. “Well, that is good to know. I never would have guessed. She seems like such a sweet-tempered  _ fire breathing dragon.” _

“You said that already.”

“Did I?” Killian was starting to wonder if he was actually going insane. There couldn’t really be a girl in his flat who thought she was a princess, telling him about her dragon friend. He must have lost his mind when his time machine didn’t work and was now talking to himself at home. “I’m sorry, I thought the fire breathing bit was quite notable. But then, I’m not friends with many dragons. Clearly that’s just par for the course with these guys.”

He was babbling hysterically. He knew it. Emma rolled her eyes at him. “No need to be so dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You think this is me being dramatic? When there’s a creature out there that could start the next Great Fire of London, it’s all my fault, and I have no bloody clue how to fix it? Forgive me if I’m a little tense, but I think I’m actually being quite calm about this whole situation under the circumstances.”

“You’re right,” Emma sighed, “but if we can get close to Lily, I’m sure that I can talk to her.”

“Of course, let’s give the dragon counselling. Why didn’t I think of that?” He couldn’t help the sarcastic edge to his voice and he was unsurprised when it earned him a glare.

Silence fell between them as they looked towards the TV. They watched as the armed officers had tried unsuccessfully to take down the dragon. “Please,” Emma scoffed. “Unless those weapons are enchanted, they don’t stand a chance.” 

Killian looked at her, confused that she seemed so blase about the attack on the person - dragon - whatever who she had described as her oldest friend. Or something of that ilk. She had looked more than a little smug when the bullets seemed to merely irk the dragon, who idly shot flames back at the CO19 officers. They were keeping a healthy distance away from the creature now, but were still patrolling the area, ready to strike on command.

“I’ve been thinking,” Emma said after they’d been watching for a few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“Do we have to use your machine to get us home?”

He cocked his head, looking at her questioningly. 

She carried on watching the TV for a few more minutes before realising he was gazing at her. “What?” she said.

“I’m just wondering, if you have some magical realm jumper about your person already, why didn’t you already use it to send Toothless and your lovely self home? Couldn’t bear to be parted from me? It’s ok, I tend to have that effect on people.”

She rolled her eyes; he was starting to get used to that. “In your dreams. But there are lots of ways that we can cross realms, possibly hundreds even. I won’t bore you by listing them all, but magic beans, enchanted doors, or powerful wands are the most common.”

Killian was perhaps even more bemused by the conversation now then before she’d tried to explain things. “You want me to call Harry Potter and ask him for his wand?”

“Do you think he would give it to us?” Emma sounded delighted at his suggestion. 

_ Oh right _ , Killian thought.  _ The different cultural references thing again. _

He shook his head. “Oh, er, no. Um, Harry Potter’s not a real person, he’s just a story. From a book. And some films. The books are better though.” He was babbling, and Emma looked equal parts bewildered and unimpressed.

“So, no wand?”

He shook his head. They both turned their attention back to the TV. They watched wide-eyed as it showed the dragon that had been lounging on Tower Bridge spread its wings and take off. The crowd was initially silent in awe, but the silence turned to shouts and screams of panic as the dragon dived towards them, snapping its huge jaws. The cameraman was jostled from all sides as people fled the scene and the footage turned into a blurry panic. Shots could be heard and the camera fixed back on the dragon just in time to see it rise up again and fly off.

Killian stared at the screen in horror. This complicated things.

“She's bored,” Emma said dismissively.

“Bored? Are you sure she's not  _ hungry? _ Or was she just attempting to bite the bystanders’ heads off in a friendly way?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and Emma raised her eyebrows at his tone.

When she finally replied, it was in a deeply matter of fact tone. “Lily doesn't eat when she's a dragon, and she doesn't play with her food. If she wanted to eat them, they'd already be dead.” He looked at her in horror. “Well, it's true,” she replied with a shrug.

With some difficulty, Killian fought the urge to make more sarcastic remarks, instead focusing on practical concerns. “Do you have any idea where she might go?”

“This is your realm, you tell me. I'd use a tracking potion to find her, but as you're not a sorcerer, that won't be an option.”

Emma looked genuinely disappointed and Killian couldn't help but agree - this would be so much easier if they had a tracker on the dragon. And that gave him an idea. “I wonder - you're both from the same universe -”

“- realm -” 

“ - whatever. The point is, your particles may bear a marker that would show that. If I can identify that marker, then it's just a matter of searching for other particles that share that marker.”

“I have no idea what any of that means.”

“It means that I can put my science skills to work so we can go hunt a dragon.”

Killian didn't have time to so much as consider his next move when he heard the sound of bloody Aqua echoing through the room. He glanced at his phone, as irritated by Will’s sense of humour as he was by the interruption.

Belle:  _ Stay away from Trafalgar Square, Killian. That dragon’s looking for lunch. _

He gaped at his phone momentarily. Of course. Who needed programming skills and an understanding of the underlying forces that govern the universe when he could simply let Twitter tell him where the dragon was?

He groaned. He hated Twitter. That goddamn social network seemed like a sure sign that the apocalypse was coming and that society deserved it. But for now, it seemed like it was going to be his salvation.

“What are you doing?” Emma was trying to disguise just how curious she was, but she couldn’t help leaning against him a little as she tried to peer over his shoulder. The feel of her so close to him was beyond distracting. “Is your little magic ... talking phone going to find the dragon?”

“It’s just a phone, love. And yes, I think it will.” He could tell that she was dying to ask more questions, but didn’t want to be a bother. 

He turned on the sofa and found himself far closer to Emma than he was prepared for. Her face was inches from his and her long hair brushed against his neck as he moved. He swallowed hard, looking at her staring down at his phone. He just wanted a moment to revel in this strange feeling, but then she felt his gaze on her and looked up into his eyes. He could see a spark of fear in them and he wanted to reach out and soothe her, to assure her that he would never hurt her, and that everything was going to be ok.

As soon as the thought was in his head, a voice hissed  _ traitor _ inside of him. What on earth was he doing? Milah was his love and it was only she who mattered to him.

Bloody hell.

His physical attraction to Emma Swan was getting out of hand. He needed to send her home before he did something ridiculous like fall in love with her.

He cleared his throat and shuffled to pull himself away from Emma. She shoved herself away from him, before looking back to the screen of his phone. There was a strange tension in the air that had to be broken. He held his phone up, opening up Twitter for her to see.

While the app loaded, Killian figured he might as well explain to Emma what he was doing. “This is Twitter, it’s…” he faltered, wondering just how to explain the madness of Twitter to Emma. “People send short messages through it and talk about their day. A dragon’s a pretty exciting sight, lots of people will be saying where it is.”

“So … people tell the magical little bird things and it tells you?” Emma asked, her eyes wide.

“It isn’t mag…” he broke off. Was there really any point in having the magic vs science debate again? “Yes, basically that’s what happens.”

The first tweet he saw was from Will, a retweet to which he’d added just two words: “bloody hell”. There was a video and it was simply captioned #LondonDragon. He clicked on the tweet so they could watch it.

It started as a typical tourist video, with someone panning up Nelson’s Column, when the roar of the dragon caused the person with the camera to spin around to the source of the noise. They watched entranced as the dragon swooped down to land on the Fourth Plinth, right on top of David Shrigley’s sculpture of a giant thumbs up. Killian was sure some trashy tabloid would turn it into a headline, _ “Dragon ‘likes’ London”  _ or some such garbage. 

There were screams of terror and people rushing around before the camera, but the tweeter seemed to be frozen with fear. Killian felt nervous at how close they were stood to the beast. He knew Emma had said that Lily wouldn't eat anyone - but she could most certainly hurt them. And if anyone charged out into the road to get away from her? He cringed at the thought of all the potential for car crash accidents.

Some idiot flung a bottle at Lily, yelling “fuck off you CGI reject”. It did little more than irritate her. She turned and snapped out at her would be attacker, stopping short of actually biting them, but growling out a warning instead.

Emma sighed. “We better get over there before Lily decides to literally bite someone's head off.”

“Is that likely?” 

“Probably not, but I don't want to test that theory.”

It took them a long time to make it to Trafalgar Square. Busy as the area usually was, the dragon's presence had caused chaos in the city, Charing Cross and Embankment stations were shut down meaning that the remaining stations were full beyond capacity. He had grabbed water for them both, knowing that taking the tube would feel like travelling in an overcrowded oven, but space was so limited that lifting his arm to swig from his bottle seemed impossible.

Emma was cranky and confused by the strange technology, with no way to voice her questions as she was buffeted about, through the barriers, onto the escalator, and eventually onto the train itself. Killian felt like he was dragging an overwrought toddler around, unable to do little more than grab her hand and try to keep her close as he struggled to keep his cool.

Blackfriars was as close as they could get to Trafalgar Square, and they were left with no choice but to walk in the once again unbearable heat. At least they weren’t hot and claustrophobic while they walked the final 20 minutes of their journey. It was of little comfort to him. He really felt like the weather had it in for him this week. Or perhaps his own dark thoughts were summoning the oppressive atmospheric conditions. Considering the events of the past two days, he wouldn’t be surprised.

When they eventually arrived, a police blockade - and a sea of tourists, disgruntled commuters, and curious city dwellers - was preventing them from getting close to the dragon. Emma groaned and stamped her foot in frustration. The move was so unregal that Killian couldn't help but laugh at her. 

That is until she darted forward, intent on squeezing her way through the crowd. Killian reacted fast, reaching out and grabbing hold of Emma’s hand to help them stay together. Their hands were both warm and, if he were completely honest, a little sweaty. And yet, it felt nice to feel even this most innocent touch in his hand. More than nice, in fact, it felt right.

(And of course, he couldn’t let go of her, in the midst of the confused and panicked crowd there was too great a risk that they would be separated.)

It wasn’t the time to dwell on such things though - they had to figure out how to help.

That was proving to be more than a little difficult. The crowd of onlookers was at least 10 deep, then there were the police with the riot shields, the row of special ops with their guns crouched behind a row of tanks that was practically bumper to bumper. How could they help when their only chance was to have a chat with the dragon? The surreal image of this vicious creature chatting to them on a sparkly pink phone came to him, even as he twisted and turned, taking elbows to the face and tripping over feet as he struggled to keep up with Emma. 

They were nearly at the row of riot shields when it happened. The dragon spread its wings and flew straight towards them. The special ops team started firing to force the dragon back, but it carried on undeterred. The people surrounding them backed away in horror.

That was all Emma needed. At first Killian was yanked along as she ran forward to the dragon, but soon her hand slipped out of his as they were forced back by the seemingly unstoppable tidal swell of the terrified mass. He blindly stumbled onward, shouting out her name, desperate to get to her, to help.

The riot police had broken their ranks and she was able to slip past them and nimbly leap up onto a tank. Killian watched the scene unfold with mounting horror. What on earth was she doing?

The police were scrambling to get her down, shouting orders and pulling at her. Killian’s horror turned to fury at the way they were handling her. In the midst of the chaos, the officers had neglected to reform their wall of riot shields, allowing him to get close to her.

They were so focussed on her that they didn’t see him climbing up the other side of the tank. He ran over the top of it to get to her. “Emma!” he yelled, fighting for her attention. She spun towards him and her eyes widened in alarm. “Killian! What are you doing?” 

“You looked like you needed a hand, love,” he answered, scrambling closer to her.

The dragon roared before he could reach her, before she could say a word. It breathed fire directly at them and Killian’s heroic intentions melted away in the face of the unbearable heat. All was heat and pain and fire, everything he was turning to ash in that one moment. 

He heard a strangled “NO!” from Emma as he fell from the tank, crashing to the floor and blessedly losing consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to yell at me? I swear I've got a fire extinguisher on hand... Let me know what you think here or on tumblr [@katie-dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/), where you'll also find sneaky peeks of what's to come and all of the gorgeous artwork made for this fic for me by the super talented [@princesse-swan](https://princesse-swan.tumblr.com/)  
> Words cannot express how much I love [@distant-rose](https://distant-rose.tumblr.com/) and [@ultraluckycatnd](https://ultraluckycatnd.tumblr.com/) for betaing this fic for me.  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

Killian didn’t know where he was. The last thing he remembered was fire, screaming, and intense pain. But now he was surrounded by bright white light. He felt safe and serene - he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at peace.

He looked around. He couldn’t see anybody; but that light was so dazzling perhaps someone _was_ close at hand. “Hello?” he asked tentatively.

An angel swam into his vision. He couldn’t quite focus on her, she was radiating light and goodness. She made him feel safe. “Shhhh,” she murmured softly. “It’s alright, Killian. You’re alright.” He closed his eyes and allowed her words to wash over him. He _was_ alright. Everything for once was alright.

Killian woke up in his bed, blinking around at his surroundings. He was confused: surely he’d gone to heaven? Or perhaps hospital? He closed his eyes, trying to shake off his strange dreams. For a moment, he thought he’d actually brought a dragon to London and got on the wrong end of its flames. How ridiculous...

“I swear, if there's any permanent damage to Killian -”

He heard the sound of a voice outside his bedroom door. His angel’s voice perhaps? But angels don’t hang out in London flats. Of that he was certain. (But then again, dragons don’t tend to hang out in London either, and he was pretty confident that he had indeed seen one of those… Perhaps he wasn’t in heaven or a hospital but rather some kind of institution.)

“He'll be fine,” an unfamiliar voice cut the angel off. “You healed him and I'm sure he'll be more than happy for you to kiss any lingering pain better.”

“What? No. That's not - this is about you!”

“Emma, I know that things always turn to shit when I’m around; it’s the story of my life. But your boyfriend is the one who brought us here! Take it up with him.”

“He is not my boyfriend! He's just… he's taken care of me so there's no need to be a dick.”

“Whatever you say.” Even through the closed door Killian could feel the derision in those words.

The voices fell silent, and with a great effort Killian sat up, intending to discover their owners.

Sitting up was a mistake. The room spun. He felt wobbly and off balance. He closed his eyes and waited for the vertigo to pass. When at last he felt more stable, he climbed out of bed and walked towards his living room.

He stopped dead when he caught sight of her sitting on his sofa, wearing his shirt and little else, like she belonged there - his angel - or as his brain helpfully supplied, _Emma._

God, it wasn’t a dream.

That thought might have sent him spiralling into despair at the painful truths it carried with it - of his failures and of the challenges he still had to face. But, he was presented with a puzzle that kept him in the moment - what exactly had happened? How was he here? And who was the girl sitting with Emma and scowling at his TV?

“I can’t believe this could happen,” a woman cried on the TV while her partner stood with his arms wrapped around her looking equally distraught. A ribbon identified them as Ashley and Sean Herman, parents of Alexandra Herman, Dragon Victim.  “Alexandra was everything to us and now she’s just been - been eaten!” She choked on the last word and sobbed.

The stranger in Killian’s room scoffed. “It’s always the same, everyone blames the dragon. There are other monsters in the world you know! Besides, there’s no way I snacked on their daughter. I hate eating people.”

So this odd woman was the dragon? His mind filled with the memory of searing flesh and agony. His lip curled in disgust.

“But you don’t mind roasting them alive?” he spat out. “Forgive me if I have little sympathy for your pain.”

Both women startled at his words, but the stranger recovered first.

“You're fine, aren't you?” She rolled her eyes at Emma. “Such a drama queen this one. You really do have the worst taste in men.”

Killian clenched his jaw and ignored the taunts with difficulty. He looked to Emma for answers. “Care to explain what happened?”

“So after Lily, um -” “Blasted us with fire?” Killian filled in “- yeah, after she did that. I helped her transform back into a person and brought us all here.”

Killian went to speak and stopped, completely confused. Nothing about what Emma had just said really made any sense to him. “What do you mean you helped her transform and brought us here?”

Emma shrugged, cocking her head and twisting her mouth. She looked sheepish as she explained, “I kinda have magic, which I used to, like, poof us into your home.”

Killian’s mind raced as he cycled through every possible reaction to such news - surprise, confusion, concern, and probably several other emotions that he couldn’t quite name. He looked at Emma, wincing uncertainly like she was waiting for him to pass judgement on her, and finally, came up with awe. This woman was incredible. “You’re bloody marvellous, Swan!”

“Yeah?” she asked, a little surprised by his positive reaction.

“Yeah.” He felt a little uncomfortable with this sentimental moment; she looked touched and delighted, and that tugged at his heart strings. But it was wrong to feel that way; she was from another world and he was wedded to a ghost.

_A ghost_ , his jaw clenched.

It was the first time he had so casually thought of Milah as really dead, really gone. His blood turned to ice and tore through his heart. “Although, it might have been better if you’d done the whole ‘help the dragon become a harmless woman’ thing before she decided to toast us like marshmallows. Just a thought.”

The harsh words that tripped off his tongue were perhaps a little too cruel. He was angry with himself and not Emma, after all. He watched the spark in her eyes fizzle out and while he cursed himself for doing it, he knew it was for the best.

“Seriously?”

He shrugged. Yes, she had healed his wounds, but still, the memory of heat and smoke and molten pain could not be so easily erased. At least, that's what he told himself. The way his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight of the hurt he caused told a different story.

“I should get to my lab - or whatever’s left of it.” He punctuated his comment with a pointed glare at Lily, who merely rolled her eyes in response. “The sooner I get that portal reopened, the sooner you two can get back to your lives and out of my hair.”

As he turned to leave, he noticed Emma shifting out of the corner of his eye. “Yes?” He hadn't exactly meant to snap at her, but it would do them both some good to put some distance between them - in every sense of the word.

“I thought I might - that you might want, I mean, need some help?” She looked awkward and uncertain, folding her arms across her body as if protecting herself from whatever his verdict might be.

His eyes flicked to Lily. _You’ve done quite enough_. The retort was there, ready to burst out when he looked at Emma. _Really_ looked at her, sitting in his shirt, looking so vulnerable that the ice that cracked his heart began to melt. “I need you to keep an eye on this one -” he gestured to Lily “- I don’t know if she’s house trained and I can hardly trust her not to use my furniture as kindling.”

Lily scowled. “I’ll use your face as kindling,” she muttered. Killian wondered how on earth a princess ever got mixed up with a cantankerous dragon. It was hardly the most likely of partnerships.

“Besides -” he looked to Emma with a kind smile “- you might be recognised. It would be hard for me to get what I need to do done if you were mobbed by grateful strangers, or dragged in by the authorities, or whatever else might happen to a stranger with magic in this world.”

She looked sceptical. “Why would I be recognised?” she huffed, clearly seeing this explanation as nothing more than a way to fob her off.

At that exact moment, Emma’s face filled the TV screen, standing on top of a tank, hair wild and eyes blazing as she faced down Lily in dragon form. Killian merely gestured to it with a smug expression on his face and Emma pouted like a disappointed child.

“Who is our mysterious saviour?” the TV presenter prattled on gleefully, Killian noted with curiosity that she winced at the word saviour. How strange. “Has she vanquished the dragon for good? What -”

“Fine,” Emma cut off the inane questions, clearly getting the point. “Go alone but - be safe.”

“Well, your friend is here, love. I’m sure I'll be fine.”

“I may consider revising my stance on eating people,” Lily said through gritted teeth, but he merely bowed cheerfully and headed out the door.

The city was still as hot as it had been the day all this began. _Bloody hell, was that only two days ago?_ After his first encounter with a dragon, Killian barely felt it. He perhaps should have taken the tube and got to his lab quicker, but the hot, stuffy air deep under the ground was bound to clog his mind, so he walked.

He was lost in trying to puzzle out a solution to his current predicament when he noticed the air was thick with flies. He lifted a hand to swat them away when one stopped directly in front of him.

Only it wasn't a fly. It was a fairy.

At least, he assumed that was what she was. The tiny woman fluttered in front of him with sparkling wings and a blue dress that frankly looked absurd with its strange skirt that jutted out from her hips at a 90 degree angle with trailing tendrils of fabric dangling over the edge.

It said something about all the ridiculous things that had happened to him since he switched on the machine that his brain was stuck on critiquing a fairy's fashion sense instead of panicking at her very presence.

They gazed at each other silently; him with curiosity, her with confusion and fear. Just a moment later, she was gone, as was the whole swarm of what Killian now knew to be fairies.

He frowned and looked around. They had definitely all vanished.

He was sure that no more creatures had slipped through the portal, tripping out of the Enchanted Forest and into London, so how had they got here? Could his machine somehow be the cause of this?

No. _No._ He stopped that train of thought with an effort. No one else seemed to have noticed the fairies or their sudden disappearance. It was far more likely that what he had just seen was some kind of hallucination, a result of the stress of meeting a real life dragon.

He didn't like to think about the fact that he preferred to think that he'd gone mad instead of the world at large.

He didn't like to admit that he knew he hadn't.

He directed his gaze to the floor and hurried forward, eager to get to his charred lab without further incident.

If he hadn’t been so lost in brooding, he might have wondered at the way the lab door was partially ajar when he arrived.

“Dr Jones, how good of you to arrive at last!” Killian froze at the sound of Gold’s voice, which sent a shiver of revulsion up his spine. The man was sitting in a chair in his lab, leaning against his cane.

Killian scowled at the sight of the man making himself at home in his lab. His mouth curled up into a snarl. “What are you doing here?” he spat out.

“I’m here to watch a magic show of course, dearie!” Killian’s eyes narrowed in confusion and Gold rose to his feet, leaning on his cane with one hand. “You see, last night I was quite surprised to be told the news that there’s a dragon in my town. I was even more surprised when I was sent this.” Gold held up his phone and used his thumb to press play.

Curious, Killian moved closer, squinting at the shaky camera footage. It was taken from the street outside the university - probably from the other side of the street. The camera was pointing directly at a shattered window - _his_ shattered window - from where you could see a pulsating light.

“What’s that guys?” was heard coming from the phone, apparently spoken by the guy filming the scene. A moment later, a beam of light shot out and the portal opened.

“THE FUCK?!” The camera operator nearly dropped the phone in their shock and the portal went off screen temporarily. When it was back in sight, you could clearly see Emma climbing up onto the window sill and peering into the swirling lights. “Holy shit, there’s a girl up there!” a voice shouted out from somewhere off screen.

That’s when the first flickering tendrils of fire appeared.

“Fuck, the crazy light show’s on fire! What is this shit?”

The dragon emerged from the portal and you could hear a chorus of “fuck me!” from the guys with the phone.

The video clip ended and Killian continued to stare at Gold’s phone in shock. “One million views, Dr Jones. One. Million. Views.”

Killian’s eyes shot to Gold’s as they widened in alarm. “Bloody hell. Seriously?”

Gold laughed at him, shaking his head. He tucked his phone into the inner pocket of his suit jacket before placing both hands on his cane and straightening up to look Killian right in the eyes. “No,” he sneered. “Do you honestly think you would have had unimpeded access to your lab this morning if the world had seen this video?”

“How - how did you know about this?”

Gold giggled manically and the sound clawed at Killian’s skin. He longed to squirm at the feeling, but held steady and fierce. “Oh Killian, I know about everything you do. That’s how I knew to find you here right now! I’m always watching you. I must say, I was disappointed to see that you’re drinking again. Tut tut, dearie, you know it’s bad for you.”

Killian clenched his jaw, fighting to hold back his revulsion. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“I find myself reluctantly in need of your help Dr Jones. There’s a dragon in my town and you brought it here. I need you to get rid of it. Queen Ingrid of Norway is most upset by this turn of events. Her niece and heir, Princess Elsa, has vanished, and she is concerned that she has been attacked - or maybe even been eaten - by this creature.”

Killian thought back to Lily's derisive comments about not eating people. “She hasn't.”

“You sound very sure of that, Jones.” Gold looked at him curiously, a shrewd, calculating gleam in his eye. “Alas, I do not have your confidence - nor does the queen. ”

“What do you get out of this?”

Gold chuckled inanely. “So suspicious, dearie! I'm merely doing my civic duty.” Killian stared at him impassively, waiting for the rest of the story. Gold held his gaze for a moment before continuing with a sigh. “If the queen chooses to grant me a favour in return, well, that's neither here nor there.”

Killian's lip curled in disgust. “Of course, profiting off other people's pain. You never change do you? Tell me this -” he stepped closer to Gold and leaned in close “- why would I help you?” Killian sneered out, as if they didn’t have a common goal for once.

“You seem to have found yourself in a spot of bother.” Gold gestured around the lab. “I can provide the equipment you need. A team of assistants to ensure a speedy resolution. Data recovery specialists to get your work off your damaged computers, unless of course you have back ups?” Gold’s tone was innocent, his implication anything but.

Killian gritted his teeth. “Haven't had the resources to spare.” _No thanks to you_.

Gold beamed graciously as though he hadn't understood the unspoken words that hung in the air, heavy as the humidity pressing in on them.

“You’ll be needing my help then, excellent, I'll -”

“I want nothing from you.”

“Come now, Killian, you wouldn't want to hurt my feelings by turning down my generous offer, would you?” The words dripped off his tongue like syrup, sweet and cloying. Killian was unmoved. “Besides, you are my oldest friend! Friends help each other out all the time. These are very dangerous times after all. I wouldn’t want you to lose another hand or …” Gold’s voice trailed off and he held up his phone again, now showing a clear picture of Emma.

Killian growled, his eyes flashing fire. He would not let Gold harm another person, not on account of him. The very thought made him sick. “Don’t you dare hurt her, or I will end you.”

“Oh, you misunderstand me. I would never hurt any woman that you are, well, doing whatever you two are doing.” He waved his hand with a flourish. “But, with a dragon about, it would be so easy for a tragic accident to occur.”

Killian seethed. He hated to be beholden to Gold, but perhaps it could be a way to bring about the beast's downfall. He may not be able to save Milah, but at least he could avenge her death.

“How could I refuse?” he said with a smile, though his eyes screamed his true feelings.

“Lovely, then we have a deal.” Gold held out his hand and Killian shook it, struggling not to shudder with revulsion at his touch. “I have people lined up and waiting to help, I knew that you would find my offer impossible to refuse.”

Gold pushed past Killian who deliberately remained unmoving, filled as he was with rage and not trusting himself to keep his aggressive urges in check.

Gold paused. “Good luck, I know I can trust you to resolve this matter swiftly,” he said, his voice oozing with false sweetness before dropping all pretence of civility. “If you know what's good for your glamorous new assistant that is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Killian's got out of the fire and into the frying pan - Gold is _hideous!_  
>  You can find me on tumblr [@katie-dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/)  
> This is a CSBB fic - you should check out all the stories. [@princesse-swan](https://princesse-swan.tumblr.com/) has made stunning artwork to go with this - please go admire it and flail at her!  
> The delightful [@distant-rose](https://distant-rose.tumblr.com/) and [@ultraluckycatnd](https://ultraluckycatnd.tumblr.com/) were my betas and a small army of friends helped me to bring this to life. Thank you all.


	6. Chapter 6

Killian waited just long enough to see Gold’s men arrive and give him the address of his new lab. “The Gherkin? I thought that was all offices?” he asked, raising his brows. The lackey merely shrugged, as if nothing his boss did surprised him. “What Gold wants, Gold gets. Everything will be ready for you in the morning.”

Knowing he was free to go, he stalked out of the lab. He needed fresh air to clear his head, but the atmosphere remained as stale and heavy as his guilty conscience. But still if he didn't move, he would buckle under the tension he was feeling.

He walked aimlessly, anxiously noting how quiet the city streets were. The lack of other people felt ominous when usually they were teeming with life.

He quickened his step, drawn forward by the horrible fear that Emma might already be in danger. That would be just Gold’s style - to have her watched and strike when Killian wasn't looking. _“I was disappointed to see that you’re drinking again.”_ The words filled his mind, darkened his already grim mood and he felt - or imagined - a prickle on the back of his neck, indicating that he was being watched.

He was startled by vibrations in his pocket and laughed at himself as he realised that it was merely his phone ringing. _Bloody hell,_ he thought, _you need to calm down. What would Will think if he saw you jumping with fright at your own phone?_

He pulled it out, smiling to see it was Belle. Although the smile quickly turned to a wince as he remembered their last conversation, when he had cancelled on her. He hoped she was in a forgiving mood.

“Hello?”

“Hi Killian, crazy week, huh?”

He chuckled nervously. “You're telling me.”

“A few of us are going to that new place in Hackney, Aesop’s Tables, tonight for a few drinks to escape all the madness. You in?”

“Aesop's Tables? Sounds like some bloody awful hipster place with quirky drinks with dumb names like Tequila Mockingbird. Why can't we just go to The Culpeper?” He knew he was whining, but he was hot, agitated, and just not in the mood.

Belle just laughed at him. “Because we always go there. Live a little, old man. Remember, you should never judge a book by its cover.”

“Back in my day, drinks had proper names,” he muttered under his breath, only partly to play along with Belle’s joke.

“Oh really? So you've forgotten that night with all the Screaming Orgasms?”

“As if I could ever forget having a Screaming Orgasm with you, love.”

“The way Will tells it, he was the one you swore your undying love to.”

“But alas, my ungrateful cousin only has eyes for you. More’s the pity.” Belle laughed, probably to hide the blush that rose up every time he mentioned Will’s feelings. Despite the gloom he was feeling, it felt good to do something as normal as tease his friend.

“I'm not sure that's true at all,” Belle deflected and Killian smirked, unsurprised by her denial. He felt like he'd aged several centuries waiting for Will and Belle to get together. “But seriously,” she continued, “are you in?”

“Yeah that sounds…” he trailed off, remembering Emma and Lily. “I'm not sure if I can. I've got guests.”

“Guests?” Belle asked with a hint of mischief in her voice. “You mean you have other friends?”

He thought of Lily scowling at him. “I don't know if I'd call them friends.”

_“Lovers?”_ she teased. “You don't mean to tell me that Will was right when he said you had a girl over? He'll have a field day if he hears that you've got more than one -”

“No!” he yelped, and cleared his throat, embarrassed. “No, it's nothing like that. Just some colleagues.” He had a burst of inspiration. “Their flat burnt down last night so I offered them shelter. In fact, they lost everything. I don't suppose you would mind lending them an outfit or two, just until they can buy their own?”

“Oh God, how awful! Of course, but, um, are you sure my clothes would fit them?”

Killian's face fell as he thought of Belle's petite stature. “Oh, I guess not actually.”

“I can ask Ruby?”

As far as he could remember, Belle's roommate was closer in height to the two girls - far closer than Belle at least. “If you could?”

“Sure, I'll let you know.”

He wasn't sure if going out with Emma and Lily would be a good idea, but he should at least get them some clothes. His mind filled with the image of how Emma had looked in his shirt, and, maybe nothing else, when he had left his flat earlier. He swallowed hard; she definitely wore it well -

No. Milah. He tried to picture his Milah, to let her memory fill his thoughts.

He couldn't do it.

Her image had faded, the exact sound of her voice was gone, the way she felt in his arms had disappeared. He felt desperate, searching for clearer memories, but each was as faded as the last. A copy of a copy of a copy, distorted and unclear.

This felt like the ultimate betrayal. Fancying another woman was forgivable, it didn't mean anything. Killian was sure that Milah herself would be pointing out how beautiful Emma was. But forgetting her? Maybe not who she was, or the facts and figures of their relationship. Maybe not his love for her, but everything else that made her real, made her alive? This felt like truly letting her die.

For the first time, he had confronted the hard truth that he was blindly clinging onto something that was long since gone.

It had happened so gradually that he hadn’t even noticed.

The one image he’d been able to recall clearly for the longest time was her lifeless body, he had violently rejected the horrible memory, he needed it not to be true. Fuck, _he was going to change the past_ , so there was no need to look at that terrible sight in his mind’s eye again and again.

He’d struggled so hard against that memory that he didn’t even notice how the others had slowly faded from him, dissolving into nothing as he lost the touch of her hand, her soft sighs of happiness, the way her curls had fallen into her eyes as she leant forward.

He had to fight back the urge to give up and wait for death himself.

He hadn't even realised that he was still moving forward, stuck in his dreadful realisation as he was. So it was hardly surprising that he failed to notice the way a confused tourist struggling with a comically large map vanished into thin air just moments after he had passed them by.

 

When he walked into his flat after seemingly hours lost in his dark mood, Emma was curled up on the sofa reading his copy of _Neverwhere_ and Lily was nowhere to be found. Had it really been just days since he was meant to lead a book club discussion on the novel? And now his life was like something penned by Gaiman himself.

“Oh hi,” said Emma, smiling up at him.

The scene was painfully domestic. In another world, another life where he wasn't so damaged and she hadn't stepped out of a fairytale, this could be their life. The thought cut through the gloom that had surrounded him and pierced his heart, bringing him nothing but pain. His anguish must have been plain to see because Emma's smile quickly turned to a frown of concern.

“I hope you don't mind me borrowing this,” she said hesitantly, nodding towards the book. “Er - things got a little dull after Lily stormed out.”

“It's fine.” He tried to smile, but he couldn't shake his grim mood. It must have showed, for she placed the book down on the coffee table and uncurled her legs. As she moved, his shirt rode up, exposing a near indecent amount of skin. A bolt of desire shot through him, quickly followed by a wave of disgust. Not minutes ago, he had been despairing over Milah and now he was ogling a woman under his protection. His jaw clenched and Emma, who had been in the act of standing up, awkwardly slumped back down on the sofa, crumpling inwards. He hated that she looked that way because of him, but it was for the best. She deserved better than his worthless attention.

“So, Lily stormed off?” he asked, scratching behind his ear, feeling uncomfortable that his bad mood had filled the room with tension.

“Yeah.” Emma rolled her eyes. “She's just being Lily. She's my oldest friend but she can kind of be a -” “hot-headed monster?”

Now Killian was the one earning the eye roll.

“Yeah. I mean, things do tend to go up in smoke when Lily’s around.”

“Unfortunate side effect of incinerating everything in sight, I find.”

Emma snorted. “Well, unfortunately she tends to have that effect whatever form she's in. Used to cause so much trouble for me, back when we were…” Emma startled a little, as though she'd been about to share more of herself than she was entirely comfortable with. “When we were young. Don't worry about Lily; she'll be fine.”

“I'm _not_ worried about Lily. It’s how everyone else will fare with a bloody dragon on the loose!”

“Oh. That.”

Killian looked at her incredulously. “Yes, _that!”_

“Lily is my oldest friend! I'm used to her being a dragon!” Emma replied defensively. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary to me. It's just Lily. Besides, there are a lot of dragons in my realm. They aren't all bad when you get to know them.” Sensing that she had missed the point, or perhaps reacting to the way Killian's jaw had dropped in disbelief, she quickly continued. “She knows better than to take dragon form. Honestly. She wants to get out of this realm alive.”

Her words reminded Killian of the threats Gold had made. _“With a dragon about, it would be so easy for a tragic accident to occur.”_ He didn't want to test the man, he'd seen first hand how that ended. If Lily became a dragon again - he shuddered to think what might happen.

“You better hope so, or we'll all be in trouble,” he muttered darkly.

Emma cocked her head to the side, looking at him quizzically. He didn’t want to think about Gold’s threats. It led straight from there to everything that happened with Milah, and he would find himself lost in that same dark mood that had eased ever so slightly since he’d been talking to Emma.

He took a deep breath and dodged her questions before she could give voice to them. “Would you like to join me and my friends for drinks tonight?”

A look of mild alarm crossed Emma’s face, and she looked down at the shirt she was wearing. “I - um - well, I only have this - my clothes are kind of -”

“Incinerated?” Emma nodded ruefully. “Relax, I’ve asked my friend Belle to bring over some clothes for you to borrow. They may not be a perfect fit, but they’ll be better than my shirt.”

Relief radiated from Emma and she looked touched. “That’s so kind of you - and of her. I don’t know how to thank you.”

Killian felt uncomfortable at once; his hand crept up to scratch behind his ear without his being consciously aware of it. “Oh, don’t mention it. Belle’s great like that, you’ll see. She’ll be coming out for drinks. And here too, of course,” he continued, gesturing to the flat with his hands, “when she brings the clothes over. So there’ll be her and Will. Will’s an idiot but he’s family. You can ignore most of what he says - unless he compliments me, in which case, it’s all true. I don’t know who else will be there, but there _will_ be alcohol - most likely overpriced, but that happens -”

“Killian,” Emma said firmly, standing up and taking him by the hands, effectively stopping his rambling.

“Hmm?” he said absently, looking down at the casual way she held his prosthetic, as though it were a flesh and blood hand. He wasn’t used to this; most people tended to either trip over themselves to avoid noticing his disability or shamelessly gawked at it. He realised that Emma wasn’t speaking yet and looked up at her.

“I’d love to get a drink with you and your friends.” She smiled warmly and he couldn’t help but return it.

“Great.” He stepped back from her, dropping his hands to his sides. He consciously resisted the urge to scratch his ear yet again, lest she think he had fleas or some kind of skin complaint. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told them you were a colleague of mine.”

“Oh?”

“Well I couldn’t exactly tell the truth, could I? I work at King’s College London in the Theoretical Particle Physics and Cosmology research group. Just say you’re interested in cosmological inflation and particle astrophysics.”

Emma’s eyes widened with alarm. “What?”

“Cosmological inflation and particle astrophysics,” he repeated with a laugh. “Don’t worry, the guys all get that same look in your eyes as you have when I discuss my work. They won’t ask questions, I promise.”

“Right. I guess I can manage that.”

“Oh, and your flat burnt down.”

“Unlucky me.”

“I had to explain why you needed clothes.”

“Of course.”

“And well, it is true that your clothes got roasted.”

“True.”

“And that’s why you’re staying with me.”

“You couldn’t have them thinking you had a new girlfriend. Your wife probably wouldn’t like that.”

Killian was bewildered by this. “My - my wife?”

“Yes.” Emma looked confused and looked down at his prosthetic. “You wear a ring. Where _is_ she?” She looked horror struck as if a terrible thought had occurred to her. “She doesn’t mind my staying here, does she?”

Emma’s question was a knife to his heart. “She’s gone,” he whispered, dropping his eyes and turning away from her stricken and sympathetic gaze.

_They were settled in the fancy restaurant when Milah caught Killian completely by surprise. She leaned across the table and took him by the hands._

_“Killian, you know how much I love you, don’t you?”_

_“Aye, love,” he beamed, barely able to contain how happy hearing those words made him, even after three years together._

_“If it weren’t for you, I’d still be with that… that beast -” Milah faltered and Killian squeezed her hands reassuringly._

_“Hey, hey, you’re away from him now. You’ve got me and I’ll never let him hurt you again.”_

_“You really mean that, don’t you, Killian?” Her eyes were glistening and full of wonder as she gazed at him._

_“Of course I do. Milah, you’re my everything and you deserve every good thing in life.  There is nothing that I wouldn’t do to protect you and I will fight for you until my dying breath.”_

_“I still can’t believe that you knocked out my husband’s crony in the bar that night,” she reminisced with a chuckle._

_“Hey!” he shot back, full of mock indignation. “Are you saying that you don’t find me as fearsome as they come?”_

_“Well, let’s just say astrophysicists aren’t exactly known for their fighting skills. You are just the exception that proves the rule.”_

_Killian puffed up his chest, allowing himself a momentary swagger, before softening at Milah’s smiles. “What’s brought about this trip down memory lane, my love?”_

_“I served Gold with divorce papers.”_

_Killian’s eyes widened in shock. Milah was blushing ever so slightly and there was a small smile playing at the corner of her lips._

_“Milah, I’m delighted to hear it. But, is that really wise?”_

_“Well, you see, I kind of had to. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” Milah pulled her hands out of Killian’s and pushed back from the table, instantly dropping to one knee beside it. “Killian Jones, my knight in shining armour, my partner in crime,” her voice softened, “my love. Will you marry me?”_

_Killian’s mouth dropped open in shock before he came to his senses and laughed with joy. He shook his head slightly before dropping down onto one knee beside her._

_“Milah, you wonderful woman! You stole my line!” He pulled the ring out of his pocket and presented it to her. He hadn’t really expected that they would be able to actually get married, but he wanted her to know that he would marry her if he could. He wanted her to wear a token of his love for her - of his promise to her; that he would love her always. He knew his ring was no match to anything her ex could have bought, and yet she looked at it like it was the most precious ring she had ever seen. “Of course I’ll marry you, my Milah. Now, will you wear my ring?”_

_“Yes! Of course I will.” She paused and her eyes twinkled with delight. “As long as you wear mine.” She produced a ring from her own pocket. It was a simple band, much like a wedding ring, but Killian was delighted that Milah already wanted him to show that he was hers to the world._

_They took turns sliding the rings onto each other’s fingers and then kissed passionately, not caring who might be watching, just caught up in their love. He was dimly aware of the sound of applause around them and a champagne cork popping, but he paid it no mind._

Killian squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. He may have finally begun to accept that Milah was gone, but that didn’t mean her ghost wouldn’t continue to haunt him.

He fiddled with the ring Milah gave him that night. He'd never expected that he'd really get to marry her, and he was right. For the night that Milah had proposed had been her last, the best and worst night of his life. It took a conscious effort to keep himself from reliving the trauma. Maybe he should've explained to Emma that her assumption was wrong, but it was unimportant. After all, he had been married to her memory all this time, and what had it brought him? Nothing but wasted years and endless torment.

But who was he without his grief? It had become a vital part of him, his constant companion; driving him ever onward in his mission, demanding revenge for Milah. He didn't know how to exist without it. He wondered if Milah would even recognise him as the man she loved if they were to meet again.

He felt a light touch on his left shoulder. He looked up to see Emma awkwardly patting him. She gave him a half smile. “I'm sorry. That’s, that's really awful.”

He thought back to the way he had instantly put on his mask when Belle had called. Killian Jones, who was wedded to his work since he tragically lost his love. No. That wasn't fair to his friend. He could be happy with her. It wasn't an act, but his grief was always bubbling below the surface and no one had ever seen it.

Until now.

Here was this stranger, this odd, undignified princess from another realm, and she saw right through him. Perhaps she wasn't the best at giving comfort, but she could see that it was needed. It made him wonder what had happened to her that she could so easily see the pain that he normally kept buried deep inside. She made him want to open up, knowing that she would offer solace that he would gratefully accept.

They stared at each other for a moment that lasted a lifetime. So much was said in so few words. They recognised each other and their shared pain. It was intense.

He swallowed hard, unsure how to feel. He placed his hand over hers and gave a quick squeeze before dropping his hand. He hoped that it was enough to convey his sincere gratitude. Somehow, he knew it was. “Yeah. It really is.”

His words broke the spell around them. She stepped away from him, clearing her throat. Neither one would mention it, silently agreeing that it wasn't the time.

***

They were watching the TV in comfortable silence when Killian's doorbell rang. He got up and buzzed Belle into the building, unlocking and opening his door, then leaning against the frame to await his friend.

When Belle had called to say that Ruby was more than happy to lend some clothes, Killian had smoothly lied saying that Lily had decided to stay with family instead, finding his one bedroom flat too cramped for three people. He could tell that Belle was instantly intrigued by this, politely but pointedly inquiring after Emma's own family. “None to speak of,” he'd said. “She’s a fellow orphan.”

He knew that this almost certainly was not true, for orphaned princesses usually became queens, but it felt true. She had a look in her eyes that he recognised, the one that said love had been all too rare in her life. Besides, if it avoided any uncomfortable questions, it was a lie worth telling.

But he could tell that Belle’s curiosity had not been sated, so he could not help but feel some trepidation over how this meeting - indeed, his whole evening - would go.

She appeared minutes later with Ruby in tow. He raised his brows at Belle as he moved forward to hug her and she grimaced apologetically. “Sorry,” she whispered in his ear as they embraced.

“So where is she? Your _colleague_ that has you offering up my wardrobe?” Ruby asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief, before leaning in to give him a quick hug.

He pointedly ignored her salacious implications. “Lovely to see you too, Ruby. How’s your grandma?”

“She sends her love and told me to pinch your ass. I hope you don't mind if I leave that to this colleague of yours? I wouldn't want her to get jealous,” she said with a wink.

“If Emma wants you to pinch her ass, you shouldn't let me stop you. In fact, I would actively encourage it. Don't be afraid to, you know, really get into it.”

Ruby laughed while Belle rolled her eyes.

“Are we going to stand in the doorway all day, or do we get to meet Emma?” Belle asked.

“Come in, fair maidens, and welcome to my humble abode.” Killian held the door open, gesturing inside. Ruby hurried forward eagerly, while Belle shook her head at Killian's ostentatious antics and followed her inside.

When he entered the living room, Ruby had her arms around Emma who was not returning the hug, but instead was awkwardly tugging down the hem of his shirt.

He almost laughed at the silent plea for help Emma was sending him over Ruby's shoulder. But, instead he swooped in to her aid.

“Come on now, Ruby. I was only joking when I suggested that Emma might enjoy being groped by you.” Emma's eyes filled with alarm. “Take your hands off her and let me introduce you properly.”

Ruby stepped back and punched him on the shoulder - ever so slightly too hard to be entirely good natured. He thought he heard her mutter “dick” under her breath, but when he looked at her, she was smiling widely, the picture of innocence.

“So Emma, you've met Ruby Lucas, who's been kind enough to bring some clothes over for you. This is Belle French, who is one of my dearest friends.” He gestured to each lady in turn as he spoke. “Ladies, this is Emma Swan. She’s part of my research group at King's College.”

“Please don't talk about your research,” Ruby said not unkindly, “I already feel dumb sometimes living with Belle - and particle physics makes her head spin.”

“I promise I won't,” Emma replied with a smile, with only Killian realising how relieved she was by Ruby's request.

“I've got a whole bunch of outfits for you to try, Emma. Killian, can we use your room to get dressed?” Ruby was already ushering Emma towards his room before he had answered.

“Sure thing, Ruby,” he called, as she closed his door behind her.

With Ruby and Emma in the other room, Belle took the opportunity to pounce on Killian with rapid fire questions. “OK, talk fast. Why is Emma wearing your shirt? Where is she sleeping? What's really going on here?”

“Her only clothes are in the wash. My bed, I'm on the couch. Nothing, Belle, I swear. Can't a man be friends with a woman without any funny business involved?”

Belle narrowed her eyes at him. “I'm not buying it, Jones. You fancy her.”

“A gentleman never tells.” He was aiming for mysterious, hoping she would drop the subject without him having to be rude, but Belle let out a little gasp and looked delighted.

“You do! This is wonderful!”

“It's really not like that.”

“Why not?” She was frowning at him and he saw the moment that realisation hit. Her eyes widened and filled with something that looked far too close to pity for his liking. She dropped her voice into a soft, soothing tone. “If this is about Milah, you don't have to worry. You've mourned her long enough.” He was right, she was pitying him. His mouth hardened into a thin line, struggling to conceal his anger. He had never liked the way his friends pushed him towards women when he was still intent on rescuing Milah. He wasn't sure he liked it any better now that he knew that he couldn't. “I know you must feel angry at yourself, like feeling this way is a betrayal, but she would want you to be happy.”

_Milah doesn't want_ anything! he wanted to yell at her. _She can't because that bloody bastard Gold killed her, and I_ let _him._

Because that was his real betrayal, his failure to save her life. And it was a mistake that he could never undo. She could never forgive him and he would never forget it.

He took a deep breath and tried to push back his rage. Belle didn't know how he was feeling and she could never have guessed how doomed a relationship between him and Emma really was. “I know you mean well, but drop it. It’s not going to happen.”

Belle opened her mouth to speak, but Ruby burst into the room.

“Presenting the gorgeous Emma Swan!”

Emma stumbled after her and gave a little wave. “I told her not to do that,” she mumbled.

Some part of Killian's brain wondered, yet again, about how not regal she was. _A princess who is uncomfortable with being announced into a room? What happened to her?_ But that part was drowned out by the rest, which was stuck on admiring Emma in modern clothes.

She was wearing a simple silk blouse in Ruby's trademark vibrant red. The cut flattered her figure, highlighting her curves without clinging. The front of the shirt was tucked into a pair of skinny black jeans that emphasised her long legs. She had on a pair of black ankle boots - in an unusually low heel for Ruby, which was probably a blessing for the ungainly Swan. She looked incredible, and he found himself momentarily speechless.

He shook his head, as if trying to shake some sense into himself. “Swan, you look stunning.”

“Yeah you do!” encouraged Ruby.

She blushed. “Um, thanks.”

“Platonic my ass,” Belle whispered in his ear.

He tried not to blush himself. “Right, well, shall I get dressed and then we can go and enjoy some overpriced ant and grasshopper cocktails?”

***

This was fun. He was having fun. It was as amazing as it was unexpected.

Once her initial prickly phase had eased a little, Emma got along incredibly well with his friends. Ruby took an instant liking to her, as did Belle. She immediately put Will in his place, which earned her a laugh from him, not to mention Regina's respect - which was usually hard to come by. She talked animatedly with Robin about archery, although there had been an awkward moment when she clearly didn't understand what he meant by calling himself an Olympian. (“Gold medalist, darling,” Regina said proudly, while he grinned.) Killian hoped he had successfully covered for her by proclaiming “come on Swan, you'll give us scientists a bad name! We're not so nerdy that we don't know what the worldwide sporting competition the Olympics is!” “Oh _Olympian,”_ she played along, “I didn't hear you before.”

Emma was a hit. The cocktails, while undoubtedly overpriced, were modestly so by London standards and were absolutely delicious. Killian felt truly happy for the first time in a decade.

All was going well until he looked around and noticed how empty the bar was.

“Shame that no one's here. Guess that means this place won't last long.”

“Where have you been, mate?” asked Will. “People have been vanishing all over. It's got people scared that they'll be next.”

“Next for what? The dragon's been vanquished… Hasn't it?”

“It hasn't been seen since Trafalgar Square, but no one knows what happened there. And it's not just dragons - all sorts of strange things have been appearing.”

Killian thought of the incident with the fairies earlier that day. _Bloody hell._

“What kind of things?” asked Emma.

“All sorts. The zebras at the zoo all turned to hippogriffs that kind of thing.” Emma and Killian shared a dark look at Will’s reply. “Haven't you seen the video? It's brilliant. Here, let me find it.” Will pulled out his phone and fiddled about before handing it to Emma.

She snorted with laughter and held it up so that Killian could see a picture of himself with awful 90’s-style blonde frosted tips. He growled and dived towards the phone but alcohol had slowed his reactions ever so slightly and Will was able to quickly snatch it out of Emma’s hand before he could reach it.

“Oh sorry mate, don’t know how that picture ended up on the screen.”

He sat back in his seat, and scowled at Will. “I’m disowning you - in fact, you’re dead to me now.”

Will just blew him a kiss. “You know you love me.”

Killian shook his head, watching Will closely and held out his hand for the phone pointedly when he looked up. Will passed it over with an exaggerated sigh. “So untrusting Killian, you want to work on that.”

Killian merely raised his eyebrows in reply and looked down. When he saw that there really was a video on the screen he tilted it towards Emma. She leaned in close and Killian, slightly tipsy after several Catcher in the Whisky and Ryes, felt his heart rate pick up slightly. He was so distracted by the pleasant tingle of her breath against his cheek that it took him a moment to remember that he was meant to press play.

The video started off normally - zebras in their enclosure, generally standing around. But then, with no warning, they were hippogriffs. Strange creatures with the body of a horse and the head and wings of an eagle. He played it again and again, looking for some clue as to what had happened; for why this strange incident had occurred, but none came.

He looked at Emma, wanting her opinion on it. She was chewing her lip with worry. It was strangely adorable. She seemed to sense his gaze and looked over to him. He'd meant to ask her what she thought of the video, but was struck by how close she was. All he had to do was lean in slightly and their lips would touch. She must have noticed the same, for the air seemed to buzz with delicious anticipation, and her eyes flicked down to his mouth.

“It's fucking mental, isn't it?” Will interrupted, grabbing back his phone. The pair startled and shuffled away from each other, the moment lost. “But look at this!” He showed them a tweet with a frantic looking London Zoo employee reading a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. “Let's hope JK Rowling really knew her stuff, hey?”

Killian laughed, albeit nervously, while Emma looked confused.

“What about the people?” she asked anxiously, reaching out for Killian's hand for comfort. It felt so natural to take her hand and lace their fingers together that he didn't even notice he was doing it.

“Oh yeah,” jumped in Ruby. “There’s loads of stories on twitter of people who have gone missing. That singer I love, Rapunzel? She's gone. It's madness.”

At that point, Belle distracted him by mouthing “platonic?” at him and looking down to their joined hands with an arched brow. He just shrugged, just drunk enough to not care what she thought. Especially when Emma’s hand felt so right in his.

The intrusion of the fairytale world was the only dark cloud on their happy night. The easy affection that had sprung up between him and Emma continued all night. There were flirty touches, salacious glances, and innuendos from Killian that would've made anyone else roll their eyes, but Emma grinned and gave back as good as she got. It felt good to just relax and flirt for once.

Even the oppressive heat wave was less overwhelming in the early hours of the morning, and the air felt fresher when they finally staggered out into the night.

They made it home, stumbling a little - or, in Emma's case, a lot. (Not that Killian minded when it meant that she allowed him to wrap his arm around her waist “for support”.) She made Killian giggle like an overgrown school girl when she started chatting to the tiny dragon statue on the High Street. He gently pulled her away from it as she asked, “your cousin's here too you know? How did you get to this realm?” She called out a “goodbye” over her shoulder and solemnly insisted that she knew him, “we go way back!”

They managed to make themselves each a cup of tea before collapsing close together on the sofa.

“Thank you for tonight. It was nice to feel normal again.”

“Again?” Killian couldn't help but ask, longing to understand the enigma that was Emma Swan.

It was the wrong thing to say, and he felt the change in her instantly. Her smile dropped just a touch and she shrank away from him almost imperceptibly, although it felt to him like a great chasm had opened between them.

He wanted to get back on even footing, so he adopted the flirty tone he'd used throughout the night. “Perhaps a little gratitude is in order?” He punctuated the question with a cheeky tap on his lips. He ran his tongue along his teeth suggestively, but scratched behind his ear, suddenly nervous of how much he wanted her to kiss him.

“Please. You couldn't handle it,” Emma deferred, although she leaned in closer, eyes darting down to follow the movement of his tongue.

“Oh I assure you, I can handle _it.”_ His tongue clicked as he stressed the T. He had to consciously stop himself from moving further into her personal space, to let her decide how this latest round of flirtation would end.

She stared at him, and he barely had time to register the fact that she had decided to give into their attraction before she grabbed him and kissed him.

The kiss was fierce and passionate and everything he could have hoped for. His heart beat faster as he wrapped his prosthetic about her waist and pulled gently, desperately wanting her closer to him. She followed his lead willingly, climbing into his lap and letting him hold her close to him. He tangled the fingers of his other hand into her hair, encouraging her to give him more and she obliged, kissing him until he was lost for breath, lost for words, and he'd entirely lost his senses.

He had no idea how long they'd been kissing - seconds or minutes or an entire lifetime - when she pulled herself away with an obvious effort. She hadn't even let go of him, forehead still leaning against his. He could feel her ragged breaths against his lips.

“That was -” he breathed, eyes still closed. He didn't know how to finish. Hot? Definitely, but that hardly felt like a good enough word to express what it meant. Confusing and possibly even a mistake? Certainly, she had a kingdom and responsibilities to return to in another world. Life-changing and eye-opening? Oh, absolutely.

From the second her lips touched his, he knew what he'd only suspected before: for the first time in far too long, he'd met someone who could help him move on from Milah. And any relationship between them was impossible; doomed from the start.

He sure knew how to pick them.

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, but to what? All of the above? He opened his eyes and looked at her struggling to move away from him. Perhaps he wasn't the only one overcome by the kiss.

“I should,” she paused, and pushed back from him. The movement must have made it clear to her just how much he wanted her, for she groaned and he bit his lip to keep from doing the same. Her eyes flew open and he could see the fear in them. She climbed off his lap, looking guilty. “I should go to bed. Busy night. I'm tired,” she blurted out, then fled to the safety of his room, slamming the door behind her.

He made no move to stop her. She needed to go, and honestly, he didn't know what he could say. How could he persuade her to give this a chance when he knew it couldn't last?

And yet when he lay back on the sofa, heart pounding, breathing heavily and still very much ready and wanting, he couldn't help but wish he'd tried. That kiss had opened up his heart to her and despite all the reasons not to chase her, he had very much wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will never be over that Neverland kiss ;) You can find me on tumblr [@katie-dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rough chapter for Killian - I promise it gets better, but be prepared for distressing flashbacks and emotional breakdowns.

Killian was dragged from sleep by his alarm. He groaned, wishing that he could just close his eyes and forget about the world.

It had been a long time since he'd joined in the drinking on a night out with his friends, and he was certainly feeling the after effects. He may not have overindulged, but he wasn't as young as he once was - and the alcohol was only part of the issue.

The emotional hangover however was crippling.

He felt like last night he'd taken a huge leap forward on the road to recovering from the devastating loss of his first love. Only to fall and stumble backwards, losing himself in his guilt and grief. 

He hadn't realised what a burden on his soul his grief had been, unable to recognise the weight of it until he met Emma. After one night of feeling like he didn't have to shoulder his pain alone anymore he felt lighter, but knowing that reprieve was only temporary also made him feel centuries older than his true age.

And there was the kiss. 

Bloody hell, that kiss. 

It had been perfect, passionate, and utterly impossible.

First kisses didn't feel that good, it was nonsensical. But they kissed like they had been doing it for a lifetime - for several lifetimes in fact. And he was going to have to send her home to another realm where he could not follow. Talk about unfair.

And there was the guilt that followed. He had devoted himself to Milah long ago and when he loved, it was with his whole heart - his entire being. How could he find room in his heart for someone new?

But he didn't even have to try. It hadn't been a conscious choice to fall for Emma, but somehow he  _ was _ falling for her. He knew that Milah still owned a piece of his soul, had left an indelible impression on his heart, but it had somehow swelled to make room for another. He shouldn't feel bad for that, but he couldn't help himself.

He had far too many feelings for 8:15am.

Tea. He desperately needed tea, after a cup or five he might begin to start thinking more clearly. He could only hope that would happen.

It was probably for the best that he had to report to his new lab this morning and pick up the pieces of his tattered research. Throwing himself head first into a new challenge and letting it consume him utterly was his best coping mechanism, even if he now could see it for the unhealthy avoidance tactic that it was. 

It wasn't a solution, merely a short term reprieve.

He finally sat up with an effort, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pushing back the hair that was obscuring his vision. Blinking blearily, he glanced over to the chair that should have contained his clothes for the day. Except with all the drama of the previous night, he'd forgotten to get his clothes out of the room before Emma had gone to bed.

He was going to have to sneak into his own bedroom to get something to wear, without disturbing Emma from sleep and risking looking like a creep. Or what if she wasn't asleep, but just hiding from him?

_ Bloody hell. _

His life was ridiculous.

He filled the kettle right to the top and flicked it on to boil. He busied himself with getting the pot and adding the tea bags, giving himself a few moments to find his courage. When he went so far as to wait until the kettle had actually boiled, he tried to tell himself it was just so he could get his tea brewing, but deep down he knew he was just being pathetic. 

Instead of stalling any longer, he walked to the bedroom. He softly knocked on his door - just in case Emma happened to be awake - but on hearing no reply, he carefully opened the door and crept inside. He quickly found the clothes he wanted, hardly daring to breathe lest he disturb her and hurried to get back outside. As he turned to close the door behind him, he caught sight of her.

She was stunning.

She looked at peace in her sleep in a way he'd never seen while she was awake. A faint blush graced her cheeks, and her hair was a mess of waves around and over her face. She wasn't some Renaissance painting of frozen perfection. She was messier, but she was a true sleeping beauty all the same. 

He only caught a glimpse of her before he turned away, feeling like he hadn't earned this intimacy. He didn't deserve her unguarded moments and probably never would. But seeing her like that? Oh how it made him wish he were a better man, someone who was worthy of a princess. 

As he drank his tea and stumbled his way through his morning routine, he tried to put her out of mind. But his fantasies of her hair tickling his own nose as he woke up, her soft sigh against his cheek, would not leave him.

She still hadn't emerged by the time he had finished inhaling his slightly burnt toast and third cup of coffee. He breathed a sigh of relief as he scribbled a note - “gone to the lab, back by 7” - and pulled his door shut behind him.

He hadn’t fully processed everything that had happened last night - and he needed to concentrate on his work. Based on the way she had bolted from him after their kiss, he was fairly certain she wasn’t sure how to feel about it either. He suspected that she would prefer to act as if nothing had happened instead of having a heartfelt conversation, but doing either would be emotionally taxing and was more than he could handle right now.

After the fresh air that had breezed through the city the night before, the heat had returned with a vengeance. It was not yet 9am and already the atmosphere felt heavy. By the end of the day, Killian was sure the scent of melting tarmac would fill the air. A storm must be brewing.

As he walked through the streets, torn between rushing to get out of the suffocating air and sauntering at a leisurely pace in deference to his hungover state, he couldn’t help but wonder at how quiet the area was. There were still people around, but the place should be packed, the pavements actually overflowing with commuters at times. He never thought he’d miss having to fight his way down a street, but right now, everything felt somehow lifeless in comparison to its usual noisy, bustling state.

He reached the base of the Gherkin. He’d never had cause to go in before - uninterested in the shops and trendy bars it contained. It was an impressive sight, bearing down on him with its unusual triangular archways with their sharp points that reminded him of a crocodile’s teeth.  _ How fitting for Gold, _ he thought, suppressing a shudder.

He took a deep breath that brought him no refreshment as it filled his lungs with the humid air, passed through the archway, and entered the building.

The sudden cool was a blessed relief. Before him were two sleek black desks with smiling receptionists behind them and turnstiles in between. There were textured white walls behind them. All was sparkling clean and futuristic. He looked around, unclear of what he was meant to do next.

“Dr Jones!” a man in a white coat ran towards him. He panted slightly as he arrived at Killian’s side, despite only having crossed a few yards. Killian furrowed his brow as he looked the man up and down - he looked out of place here, his thick, fuzzy beard and short, stout physique contrasting unflatteringly against the sleek, glistening surroundings. More concerning to Killian, though, was the way his eyes darted around the lobby as though he were on edge.

“Dr Smee,” he said, extending a hand for Killian to shake. “Astrophysicist and lecturer in quantum mechanics at Imperial College and your partner for as long as you need me.”

Killian took the man’s hand. It was clammy with sweat despite the pleasant temperature inside.  _ He’s here under duress, _ he thought cooly.  _ Good, he’s not entirely Gold’s man. I can work with that. _

His assessment was perhaps callous, but he was going to have to trust his team, and he needed all the leverage he could get.

Smee ushered him into the lift. Even though it quickly filled up with other people, it took just minutes for them to reach the 32nd floor.

“Fastest lift in Europe,” Smee said with a smile when Killian's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the speed of their ascent.

“Impressive,” he begrudgingly admitted. 

Smee led the way to glass double doors. “Welcome to your new lab, Dr Jones!” he said grandly as he used his swipe card to throw open the door.

“Bloody hell…” Killian breathed. So much for not being impressed.

Immediately in front of him were floor to ceiling windows. First a neat row of standard large rectangles, then a gap that housed impressive white triangular supports before you got to the trademark diamond windows that gave The Gherkin its distinctive shape. 

And the view through the glass? Nothing short of breathtaking. A stunning panoramic vista showing what felt like all of London sprawling out from it, with its huge office blocks, grand architectural landmarks and mammoth cranes all reduced to toys by the great height.

“We have the whole 32nd floor, Dr Jones,” said Smee, noting his wide-eyed gaze, “that means 360 degree views of London, you can see Tower Bridge, St Paul’s, the Shard, the Eye, everything from here.”

He felt like he could spend forever circling the windows, gazing at the city below. He wondered briefly what Lily had looked like on Tower Bridge from up here.

“Now if you look over here -” Smee was pointing to his left - “we’ve got multiple computer banks.” They began to walk around the circular space. Large curved screens were mounted on the clean white walls, he could see everything from blueprints and coding to the latest news and twitter feeds. In front of the walls there were sleek slate grey desks with state of the art computers placed on them, alongside phones and laptops. Already there were teams of people tapping away on keys.

“How long until we have everything back from my old computers? Killian asked.

“It’s already done.”

“You restored the data already?” Killian arched his brow, framing his respect as scepticism. He didn't want them to see how impressed he truly was. Better to let them think he was doubting their ability than to show Gold that he'd won this round.

“Gold expects excellence in all things,” was the honest reply. “Of course, with Gold there were no second chances. You get the job done or call a priest to hear your final confession and read you your last rites.”

Killian nodded to show he understood, but gave no encouragement and expressed no sympathy. That was simply the price you paid for working with a crocodile. Sooner or later, he'd eat you alive.

They continued past more computers until the space opened out further. There was one last desk set apart from the wall, all the the computers on it faced towards a grand space where construction was in progress on a new machine. A team of technicians in white coats were assembling the parts efficiently, referring to plans on impressively large laptops on portable workstations.

“Well, I have to say, this is all much better than I hoped,” Killian admitted begrudgingly. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“I’m not sure I quite follow -” Smee began.

“For a start, anyone who leaves more than five personal items in the lab is banned, make sure that you enforce that rule.”

“I don’t see the need...”

“Am I in charge here?”

“Yes, Dr Jones, it is your research project after all.”

“I’ve seen the walk-in petri dishes that some scientists work in, anyone who treats my lab like they would their childhood bedroom has no place on my team.”

“Oh I see. It must be that I’m used to a slightly higher calibre of scientists. Ones who aren’t living some kind of clichéd man-child scientist life like bit parts in The Big Bang Theory. Imperial is ninth in the world for physical sciences after all - fourth in Europe - but I don’t think King’s College gets a look in?”

Killian scowled at Smee. He shouldn’t let this jab at his university’s reputation bother him, it was nothing more than typical local rivalry at play, but it was a bitter reminder of everything that Gold had cost him in life. It hadn’t been enough to take love and limb from him, he’d come close to destroying his career, leaving him scrabbling for funding and struggling to get published. But King’s was a decent university, he was proud to have fought back and won his role there despite the constant setbacks. But if he were to say that? To reveal that their generous benefactor was in fact a constant thorn in his side, that would sound like nothing more than sour grapes.

“I find it’s not the size of your ranking, but what you do with it that matters.” Killian smirked at Smee.

“And what have you done with it Dr Jones? I tried looking you up, but found that your published works were rather thin on the ground. It’s hard to believe that you still have funding with such a poor record.”

This was a definite power play, and one that Killian didn’t appreciate at all. Not only had he inadvertently hit a sore spot, but also Killian didn’t like that he had been left in the dark on who he was to work with, while his partners were able to do their homework. While his initial impression that Smee was not entirely comfortable working for Gold may have been accurate, he was nevertheless a clever man and not to be trifled with

But Killian Jones had trained to deal with men that were far more fearsome than the portly Dr Smee. He advanced into the man’s personal space, looking down on the man with obvious disdain. 

“Let me make one thing clear to you, Smee, was it?”

“Dr Sm-”

“Right. Smee, you're only here because I allow it. You may be useful to me and I don't want to deal with the inevitable headache I'd have if I kicked you out of my lab and you ran off to tell Gold on me like a good little lackey. But don't mistake this for kindness or weakness and don't take me for a fool. If I catch even the slightest sign that you are standing in my way, I will not hesitate to end you. Not your research, not your career. You, Smee. Have I made myself clear?”

Smee swallowed hard. “Cr - cr - crystal.”

“Very well then Smee, welcome to my team.” He clapped Smee on the back, just a touch too hard to be considered truly friendly and dropped his voice. “No offense, but I can’t have a rat in my lab. It’s most unsanitary, you understand.”

Smee nodded, looking terrified. Once upon a time, Killian might have felt sorry for the man, but he'd learned the hard way to never underestimate Gold and his cronies. Smee was Gold’s man, he couldn't be trusted.

***

Despite his suspicions and total dislike of relying on Gold’s support, Killian found that he had a productive day. The reason for his machine behaving in this way eluded them all, meaning they were still far off figuring out a way to reverse the effect. But at least progress was being made on rebuilding the machine.

He stepped out onto the street at the end of the day and instantly was reminded why he sometimes hated London in the summer. There was the smell of molten tarmac on the breeze and the air felt sticky with sweat. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing the tattoo that he usually kept hidden, and unfastened a few additional buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his chest than he usually would on a work day. But considering he could see at least one lobster red tourist who’d stripped out of their shirt entirely, he felt smart in comparison.

He toyed briefly with the idea of inviting Emma for a walk after dinner down by the river where the air would be cooler. He could take her to the Southbank side, get a drink in the nook by the Golden Hind, go people watching on the grass by the Tate Modern.

_ She’d probably appreciate escaping the flat for a few minutes at least. I should really get her a key,  _ he thought,  _ and possibly a phone. She shouldn’t have to stay cooped up indoors all day.  _ He tried not to think too much about how much he cared for her comfort - or how he was acting as though her presence might be long term - or how much he hoped it was.

A cat darted in front of him, startling him from his thoughts. He might have paid it no further attention if the creature hadn’t unfurled a pair of wings lazily and took flight. He blinked in alarm. These strange occurrences were happening ever more frequently, and once again, the streets were far quieter than he’d ever known them to be before. Something was deeply wrong in town and he was daydreaming about playing house with a princess.

Still though, providing Emma with some creature comforts was something he could do immediately and with little effort on his part. Handling arsey dragons, vanishing fairies, and dwindling crowds was firmly in the territory of mistakes that he had made and had no idea how to fix. 

That fact made him deeply uncomfortable. 

He was always one to admit when he was wrong, meaning that Gold’s unwillingness to ever accept responsibility for Milah’s death and do his time disturbed him greatly. When he was wrong, he would do everything in his power to make amends. But this was beyond him. The only person he could make amends to on any level was Emma.

That made his mind up for him. He knew a little place not too far out of his way where he could get a set of keys and a cheap phone. (And, if he so desired, all manner of cheap tourist crap, his dry cleaning done and, he suspected, an eighth of pot. Not that he’d know for certain, having taken no interest in recreational drugs since his mission was set. Still, it was hard to ignore the distinctive smell that wafted out of the doorway when he passed and he highly doubted that the teenagers with glazed eyes flocked there for their range of designer perfumes of dubious origin.)

He marched towards the shop, feeling as though he were wading through treacle, determined to get what Emma needed. He wondered fleetingly if he could get away with undoing a few more buttons, but decided against it as that was just a little too close to wandering the streets topless and while he didn’t mind people seeing him in that state, his British reserve kept him clothed.

_ Bloody hell, Emma will need more clothes too. Ruby only brought her enough to last until the weekend. We can hardly have her walking around the city dressed in only my shirt. _

The image of Emma’s long legs filled his mind - and his thoughts quickly turned to the previous night of feeling her straddling him. He wondered about what might have happened if he’d kissed her again. Would she have let him? How different would his morning have been if he’d woken up in bed with her after a night of exploring each other? Would he have slipped out of bed leaving her naked and sighing for him in her sleep?

And despite himself, those thoughts stayed with him throughout his entire walk to the shop. It was only the scent of weed wafting on the breeze as he drew closer that shook him out of his uncomfortably domestic daydreams.

He wondered what it said about him that he’d been fantasising about having a life with her, and not of just having her. (Although he did think about that too.) He was on the verge of playing at living with a girl he knew he’d have to give up all too soon, after his previously doomed relationship with a married woman.

He sure knew how to pick them.

A short while later he let himself back into his flat, unsure of how exactly to bring up the set of keys that were burning a hole in his pocket and the phone that was sitting in his leather satchel.

“Swan?” he called out as he walked towards the living room, wanting to give her warning that he was home. “I’ve got s -” He stopped dead at the sight before him. 

Emma was lounging on the couch with her knees up to create an easel for the drawing pad that rested against them. She was sketching and from what little he could see over her shoulder it was a simple, beautiful swan. 

The image of another beautiful woman, who he’d found in that exact pose so many times before, filled his mind. His eyes misted over as he realised how faded those memories were. He knew that he’d find Milah like this and he’d creep over to see what she was drawing. She would tilt her head back to invite a kiss, but the picture was insubstantial as smoke.

Emma jumped and accidentally drew a line straight across the swan’s throat. He hadn’t even realised that he had drawn closer to her until he was a little too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, stepping back to a safe distance and cursing his own stupidity. This was Princess Emma Swan, golden haired beauty and badass from another realm. Not his lost love returned to life.

She scrambled to shove the art supplies on the table, looking guilty. “Oh, um, I - I hope you don’t mind - I - I wanted something to do other than watch the magic mirror -” she shook her head, eyes squeezed shut as though trying to shake the wrong wording out of her brain. “I mean, TV. These were in a drawer...”

Killian’s eyes widened as he watched her babble. Did he look angry? Had he said something harsh that he hadn’t meant to? He had thought that princesses were meant to be spoiled, but this one seemed determined to apologise for her very existence in a way he found frankly alarming.

“Swan -” he touched her arm gently, but she jumped nevertheless “- it’s okay, love. It’s about time someone used those again.”

“You don’t draw anymore?”

“They were Milah’s.”

She looked down to the tattoo on his forearm - a heart with a dagger through it with a ribbon wrapped around it bearing the name “Milah” - then to the ring on the finger of his prosthetic. She looked even more guilty at these words. “Your wife?”

“Emma, Milah and I were never married.”

“But…” Emma frowned in confusion, her eyes darting down to his ring once more. He understood her hesitance at once. 

“This -” he held up his prosthetic adorned with his ring “- is my engagement ring from Milah. She was murdered the night she asked me to marry her.”

“Oh, oh fuck, I'm so sorry, I hope I didn't upset you, calling her your wife when you didn't - you couldn't -” Emma faltered and shook herself. “That's awful. I'm sorry that you didn't get to marry her. I didn't mean to make it worse. In my realm, it is customary for the man to do the asking and the woman to wear the ring.”

Killian laughed. “It is here too, but my Milah was never one for doing things the traditional way.”

_ *** _

_ After champagne toasts and congratulations from many strangers and waiters, and the manager absolutely insisting that their drinks were on the house, they finally floated home on a cloud of joy. _

_ They were so wrapped up in each other that neither noticed the figures following them home. If they had, perhaps they wouldn’t have taken the shortcut through the dimly lit park that Killian had originally intended to propose in precisely because it was out of sight of inquiring eyes. _

_ (But then again, they were hoping that perhaps they could start their private celebrations early and they didn’t want an audience. They were just so high on each other and they felt so good.) _

_ They were pressed up against a tree when they realised their mistake. _

_ “Well, well, well, dearie. What do we have here?”  _

_ At the sound of Gold’s voice, Killian’s whole body stiffened. He pulled his lips away from Milah’s, expecting to see fear in her eyes. He was incredibly proud to see nothing but defiance and contempt. She had come such a long way from the frightened woman in desperate need of an escape whom he first met. If it weren’t entirely the wrong time for it, he might had even chuffed a little with pride at how he had helped her to escape this man - this crocodile - so that she could become the fierce, strong, and independent woman she truly was. _

_ He turned slowly to face Gold, moving slightly to the side so that Milah could look at her ex, but placed firmly between them, his body still close to hers. _

_ “Go away. Nobody wants you here,” Milah spat out. _

_ “Come now dearie. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t congratulate you on your engagement?” His manic grin dropped and a dark scowl crossed over it. “Oh wait, a normal one. Did you really think I’d let you -” Gold’s words stopped as his eyes fell on the ring sitting on Killian’s finger. He sneered at the sight and gestured to it dramatically. “What is that?” He looked back up at Killian’s face in disgust. “Are you wearing an engagement ring too, princess? Did your true love get down on one knee? Was it everything you dreamed of as a little girl?” _

_ Gold stepped back and gestured to one of his henchman while pointing at Killian’s ring. “I can’t have people thinking my wife has already married someone else. Get rid of that.” _

_ With that one dismissive command, Gold condemned Killian to a life as an amputee. _

_ At the sight of the two huge lunks advancing on him, Killian felt nothing but terror for Milah. He turned to her ever so slightly and spoke in a low voice, “Milah, you have to run!” He pleaded with his eyes for her to listen to him, to just save herself. _

_ “No. I’m not leaving without you!” He should have known his amazing, darling love wouldn’t abandon him to his fate. _

_ He spun back around to face his would-be attackers, stepping fully between them and Milah. _

_ “Do whatever you want to me. Just let her go.” He summoned up all the bravado he could muster, hoping he sounded at least vaguely intimidating. One of the henchmen sneered and shrugged almost lazily, pulled out a handgun, and shot Killian through the wrist. _

_ He dropped to one knee, crying out at the intense pain.  _

_ He couldn’t feel his hand anymore.  _

_ He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to look at his surely useless limb. Instinctively, he grabbed his wrist tight to stem the bleeding. He clenched his jaw to try to hold back his screams.  _

_ He felt Milah drop down beside him. A fresh wave of sheer panic flooded through him. _

_ “Milah, no! Please go, I can’t lose you.” _

_ He heard a blood-curdling cackle from somewhere nearby that made him shudder. _

_ “Oh, I’m not going to let her go, dearie. You two have made a mockery of me for far too long. I need to make it clear to the world what happens to people who defy me.” _

_ Killian’s eyes flew open at Gold’s words. He found himself looking straight into his Milah’s eyes. She looked at him tenderly, her eyes shining with love. She smiled. “I love you.” _

_ No sooner were the words out of her mouth then he heard the bang of a gun. He jumped at the sound. His ears started to ring. Milah slumped against him, lifeless. _

_ He looked up into Gold’s face, which broke out into a crocodile smile. “Congratulations, dearie!” the beast said with a flourish before disappearing into the night. _

_ *** _

Emma looked shell shocked in the wake of his revelation. He could hardly blame her. Even though he was there, had seen it happen, he still often felt like it was all just a nightmare, one that he might wake from at any time.

“This man… Gold, the one who did - well, ordered, all this, he's rotting in jail now, right?”

Killian laughed bitterly. “You'd think so, wouldn't you? No. He's free. Living, breathing, and fucking up my life.”

Emma looked repulsed, her nose scrunching in distress and furrowing her brow. “Fucking up your life? He took your love and your hand, isn’t that enough?”

He shook his head and stared down at his prosthetic, muttering under his breath, “you underestimate how black his vile heart is.”

“What else could he possibly do?” she whispered, sounding as if she couldn’t bear to hear it.

“Anything he could to make my life miserable.” His tone was light hearted, as if his decade of mistreatment at Gold’s hands was nothing more than some grand farce. He looked back up at her with a poor attempt at a grin stretching his lips. Emma’s eyes met his and they were so full of concern and understanding that he couldn’t even make that half hearted attempt at pretending this was all ok. He sighed, and let his anguish of the past few days spill out of him. “I was going to save her.”

“What?”

“When we met, I told you that I had built a time machine…” He eyed her meaningfully and saw the moment that she understood, her eyes widening in alarm for the briefest moment before she caught herself and schooled her expression into something far more neutral.

“You - you were going to go back in time and stop her from dying?”

“I was going to kill the beast.” His voice was matter of fact, but a manic, bloodthirsty glee filled him at the thought and he knew that it must show on his face. “You know, he didn’t even have the guts to kill her himself? He always was a disgusting little coward, hiding behind his guards and his money and his powerful allies. I trained hard to take out those guards and then it would have just been me and him and with that dodgy leg of his, he never stood a chance.” His dreamy voice sounded strange even to him, he felt detached from everything he was saying. It was like waking up from a nightmare - as though he were finally seeing himself for what he’d become: a beast every bit as vile as the one he had hunted. He shuddered and the ripple of revulsion that spread through him at that revelation soon turned into a deep, wracking sob.

He hadn’t realised how completely his mission had kept him from feeling the pain of Milah’s passing until now. But now? He knew it was over. His pain was unleashed. There was no use denying it anymore or begging for a second chance. For years, he had been determined: he could fix it and he  _ would. _ But now he knew that wasn’t the case.

He was broken.

And nothing could ever put him back together again.

He sobbed long and hard. 

He gasped for breath and the gulps of air burned his throat as he forced them down. 

His heart seemed to beat harder as though it was struggling against the inevitable, determined to prove that it could still work even as it shattered into a million shards of ice, brittle, fragile, and unfeeling.

He curled in on himself. He drew his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He dug his fingers into his upper arms in an attempt to anchor himself and not be carried away in a tide of depression.

Time stood still.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick.

Until.

He realised there were arms around him.

Gentle fingers running through his hair.

A soft shushing and murmured reassurances in his ear.

The warmth of a firm yet tender touch.

He was swaying in time with the comforting rocking of another.

_ Emma. _

His breathing slowed, his heart rate returned to normal, the tears subsided. 

He lifted his head and saw how close Emma’s face was to his. Her eyes were closed, lost in the need to soothe him, to make everything better for him. He gazed at her in unabashed awe. She had saved him from himself.  

She seemed to feel the force of his attention, her eyes opened and she looked at him. She met his eyes and instantly shrank away from his side guiltily. He missed her presence immediately, his head throbbed and he felt alone.

“Thank you,” he managed to croak out. He coughed, his throat ached and his voice was hoarse. “I - I need water.” Emma nodded, but didn’t look back at him. He leapt to his feet to get himself a drink, eager for the excuse to leave this awkward moment behind.

He busied himself with fetching drinks for both of them and tried to ignore what had just happened.

He returned to the living room with water for the both of them and they sat in silence.

“What was she like?” Emma’s words broke the awkward tension that had filled the room. He looked at her in surprise. “I just think she must have been very special for you to have tried to time travel for her. I’d like to hear about her - if you want to tell me of course.” Still he stared at her, surprised by the kind gesture. “It kind of seems like you need someone to talk to.”

How did she understand him so well already? 

His friends had always wanted to help, but they had been so eager to see him recover that he found their attention stifling. He was struggling enough to adjust to his new life as an amputee, and their need to see him move on romantically too left him feeling broken and bitter. 

_ You’re damaged, _ their actions said to him.  _ You need fixing so you can stop being a burden - so we don’t have to worry about you anymore. _

He knew that this was more than a little unfair to his nearest and dearest, but logic played no part in how he felt. 

And now, here was this woman, who barely knew him, who might perhaps feel threatened by the ghost of his former love, and she could see exactly what he needed. How could he ever let her go?

“Milah loved to draw,” he began and Emma smiled, encouraging him to continue. “She was always looking for adventure and just taking a photo was never enough for her. She took so many pictures but when we travelled, she would still sit and sketch the people, the scenery, the exotic and unusual details she could see around us.” He laughed a little at the thought of her, lost in her own happy world, needing the peace of her art to help her process all the wonder around her despite filling entire rolls of film with photos. “She would sketch frantically, needing to record every detail, to make it hers. Those pictures are hers.” He gestured to the framed sketches adorning the wall above the TV. 

Emma stood up and examined the scenes on the wall. Markets in India, bustling and full of life, tourists crowded around the Trevi Fountain in Rome throwing their coins and casting their wishes, lovers and families and friends sharing food and drinks in the cafes that spilled into the streets in Paris. Every scene carried that same chaotic, desperate pen stroke that was her trademark, creating detailed and vibrant scenes.

“She was so talented,” she said, her voice full of awe. She stared long at the lone painting in the middle of the drawings, a simple scene of the Thames in the moonlight, the lights of London glittering on the water. She gestured to the landscape as she turned back to Killian. “I love this one.”

Killian scratched behind his ear awkwardly. “That’s actually mine.” Emma’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “It was Milah’s favourite too. She insisted that we hang it alongside her pictures, but she was the one with the true talent.”

“You’re both amazing,” she said sincerely, once again staring at the art on the walls. “Do you still paint?”

“No,” his voice was hard and Emma looked back to him, frowning with concern. “I threw away my paints when - when everything happened. I didn’t have time for painting when I had Milah to save.” His voice turned wistful. “I never could bring myself to throw out her supplies though.” 

He looked away from Emma’s penetrating gaze, stood up from the couch, and crossed to a bookshelf, plucking a sketchbook from it at random. He beckoned her to sit back down beside him, and when they were both seated, he held the book out to her. She took it hesitantly and opened it. 

“This was one of Milah’s sketchbooks,” he explained, and Emma began to look through the book. She smiled at the patterns with the hastily scribbled notes, “Taj Mahal, 2007, stunning detail in the marble carvings”. The quick sketches of unaware women and children were studied with care, “lonely waitress, 2005”, “cheeky boy, 2008”, “happy siblings, 2006”.

The pictures of children always made Killian’s heart clench. They had wanted a family, had talked about trying for a baby, but Milah was scared of Gold’s retribution if she were to fall pregnant. Until he had completed his PhD, and they could leave England permanently, the risks were too great. But as time went on, Milah drew more and more children, longing for what she could not yet have. (For what she worried she might never have.)

Emma lingered over the pictures of the happiest children, Killian realised curiously. She seemed as drawn to their likenesses as Milah had been. He wondered at this, but would not push her to confide in him.

Emma turned a page and gasped a little. He looked down to see a picture of himself as he slept, lying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms. He was naked, although the sketch stopped at his waist, where a blanket covered his modesty. The picture was intimate, not obscene, merely a study of the muscles in his back. He hadn’t noticed over the years how his physique had filled out as he built his strength in his training, but he could see at a glance how much better defined his muscles were now, compared to the somewhat gangly figure he had in his youth.

Emma stroked a finger across the image and he looked up in surprise. A blush had spread across Emma’s face. Despite himself, he grinned at the effect that this simple sketch had on her. She seemed flustered by the sight and helpless to stop herself from turning her eyes to the patch of hair on his chest exposed by his unfastened buttons. 

Unthinkingly, she reached a hand out towards him. He licked his lips as his heart beat faster and swallowed hard. Tension filled the air as she ran her fingers through the dark curls of chest hair. He let out a soft sigh, barely even a sound, but it was enough for her to jump back from him as though burned. 

He blinked at her, watching as she curled in on herself, embarrassed by her actions. The intimacy of the moment was too much for him and he defaulted to outrageous flirting to distance himself from it. “See something you like, love?” he teased, sticking his tongue into his cheek and quirking his brow suggestively.

“You wish,” she snorted derisively. “I need a drink.” She ran to the kitchen in the corner of the room and busied herself with noisily opening cupboards, banging around in search of refreshment. 

Killian stared at her untouched water glass on the coffee table. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one struggling with what just happened.

“So what did you get up to today?” he asked brightly when Emma returned, politely ignoring the way her cheeks reddened as she spotted the second drink resting on the table. “Not been sketching all day I assume?”

“I watched the TV - very strange things appear to be happening in this realm.”

“What kind of things?” he asked, cocking his head at her with curiosity.

“The lady in the TV said that all the dogs in a place called Batter…” she trailed off, and frowned, apparently struggling to remember the name.

“Battersea Dogs Home?” Killian guessed and her eyes lit up.

“Yes! Battersea Dogs Home. They all vanished and were replaced by wolves in the night - who turned into people in the morning.”

“What?”

“Werewolves. Somehow a hundred dogs were replaced with werewolves. I take it they aren’t all that common in the Land Without Magic?”

“They're a myth as far as we're concerned.” 

“Not anymore. There were some angry women on the TV arguing about whether they should be kept locked up or not.”

Killian blanched. “They wanted to keep the people in cages?” 

“I think it was actually the wolves they wanted to be locked up. They just couldn't see that they're people most of the time.”

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”

“There also was something called meat munchers -”

“I think you mean  _ beefeaters,” _ Killian cut in, trying hard to keep a straight face.

“Whatever. Guards with stupid hats. They showed a moving picture thingy of them turning into the Evil Queen’s black guards. That was just a temporary glitch though. They all seem to be back to normal now.”

“Oh well, nothing to worry about if it’s only temporary,” he said sarcastically.

Emma raised a brow at him. “That machine of yours has caused more than enough permanent damage for us to worry about.”

He had no reply for her. Like it or not, she was absolutely right.

“The ruler of this kingdom was on the news talking about the ‘chaos in the capital’ too.”

“James Nolan actually did something?” Killian asked, stunned.

Emma scrunched her nose in disgust. “No. Not unless you call making vague speeches ‘doing something’. I only really remember him because he looks like my f- like someone I know.”

Killian looked at her quizzically, but she was once again taking a deep interest in Milah’s sketches so he wouldn’t press her to explain whatever it was that she stopped herself from saying. “Nolan really should have told me he’d be making speeches. I wouldn’t have spent all that time in the lab today if I knew he was going to be sorting everything out for me. What’s a doctorate in astrophysics and quantum mechanics compared to a first class degree in bullshit?”

Emma snorted with laughter and immediately looked a little ashamed at the noise. Killian thought it was utterly delightful to hear someone so happy (and if he was the cause of that, so much the better). Especially when it seemed that she’d been on the verge of retreating into a dark funk - he’d experienced enough himself to recognise the signs.

“It’s okay to laugh at my impeccable wit, Swan, I’m naturally hilarious, it’s understandable that you can’t help yourself.”

At this she rolled her eyes, but it brought the smile back to her face as he’d hoped it would. “I was thinking actually -”

“How I got to be so witty?” He hadn’t meant it as yet another show of false bravado, genuinely confused by where her train of thought could be going, but it came off as Killian Jones, Cocky Bastard™, all the same. He cringed internally, but grinned all the same.

“Surprisingly I find other things to think about than your big head.”

“I find it hard to believe you think about anything but me, but, please, do go on.”

“Well, you see, I was thinking that perhaps Ishouldbeusingmymagictohelp.” In her rush to get her words out, Emma didn’t seem to pause in between each one, running them all together into something that was almost - but not quite - English.

“Come again? It’s the Germans who go in for the big compound words, here in Great Britain we like to breathe in between them. Makes it easier for people to understand us you see.”

“Seriously?”

He knew that her exasperation was at his teasing banter, but he couldn’t resist reacting as though her question were sincere. “Seriously, you should try it sometime.”

“God ok, I thought I should using my magic to help, happy now?” She was glaring at him and he figured that he shouldn’t want to grin in delight at her, but he couldn’t help it.

“Aye,” he said with a nod, “very happy in fact. That sounds like an absolutely marvellous idea.”

“It does?”

He was confused at her uncertainty. “Why of course it does, you rescued me from certain death at the hands of an angry dragon, I doubt there’s anything you couldn’t overcome once you put your mind to it.”

One corner of her lip quirked up into a smile almost involuntarily. “Thanks,” she breathed out, looking directly at him with genuine gratitude radiating from her.

“I don’t know what I’ll do with myself when I don’t have you around to clean up my mess.” He’d meant it as a joke, but it felt just a little too genuine. He climbed to his feet and ambled over to his leather satchel, digging out the spare keys and phone he'd bought earlier. “It's just as well I picked these up for you on my way home,” he said, dropping them in Emma's lap, “you can't save London Town if you can't leave my flat.”

Emma picked up the phone turning it over in her hands. “Is this one of those talking phone things?” she asked. 

“Just a phone, love. I can set it up for you, program my number in.” He caught the blank expression on Emma's face. “You'll have a Killian button, press it and you can talk to me if you need to.”

Killian thought he caught a glimpse of something akin to amazed gratitude in her eyes, but it was quickly gone leaving just a smirk on her face. “You think I'll need to talk to you?”

“Just in case my realm with its technological wizardry confuses you.”

“There aren't any wizards in your realm,” Emma reminded him. 

“You'll have no need to call for my assistance then. I'm sure you're quite capable of handling anything alone, but you don't have to.” 

There was a moment of silence between them, Emma looked overwhelmed by the sentiment and he found that he did too. It shouldn't have been much, but after shutting out his friends for so long, it felt like everything. He didn't know what had happened to her, but they understood each other and he was sure this was just a little too emotional and meaningful for her, as it was for him. 

“Tomorrow, we best get you some new clothes,” he said, avoiding her eyes and desperately focusing on practical concerns. “Can't have you saving the world in Ruby's pulling clothes. It's Saturday, Gold might expect me to work, but I'm not letting that wanker dictate my schedule. Now how about some dinner?” He made to stand, but she stopped him with a tug on his arm.

“I don't know how I'll ever repay you for - ”

He couldn't look at her, feeling like a fraud in the warmth of her gratitude. He didn't deserve it. “No need, I'm just cleaning up my mess.”

“Killian,” she said, but stopped and waited until he met her eyes. “It's more than that and it - ” she took a deep breath “- it matters. Thank you.” 

He nodded to show he understood, but couldn't find the words. Somehow in just a few days Emma had come to mean so much to him. He would give her everything, but still it wouldn't be enough to mean that he could keep her with him. He wasn't worthy of her and he never would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you still with me? Poor Killian doesn't think a lot of himself - lucky for him that Emma does! Let me know your thoughts below or hop on over to tumblr where you'll find me [@katie-dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/)  
> If you haven't already check out the other fics in this year's Captain Swan Big Bang - there's so much talent in this fandom, I'm proud to be a part of it!


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing Killian noticed upon waking up on Saturday morning was the refreshing breeze tickling his nose and filling the room. When he'd gone to sleep the air was heavy, an impending storm looming over the city. But somehow the air had cleared without a crack of lightning or peal of thunder. He might have been suspicious at the sudden change if he weren't so grateful for the reprieve.

For the first time in forever he could breathe easily (or perhaps it was only since last Tuesday, not that the British were ever needlessly melodramatic about the weather). Air. Sweet, fresh air. He greedily gulped it down.

The second thing was the soft chink of crockery bumping together. Emma.

He opened his eyes and sat up slowly, peering over the back of the sofa at her. She was rifling through the mugs in his cupboard and he watched, fascinated, as she searched for some unknown treasure.

Despite needing to reach up into the cupboard, she was stiff and tense, pausing often to just listen. _She's like a frightened animal,_ he thought, _on the alert for an imminent attack._

At one point two mugs knocked together with particular force resulting in a large crash. She tensed further still, shoulders flying up and slightly crumpling in on herself in what could only be described as a full-body wince. She froze, listened hard, damn near stopped breathing. She waited. Waited. Killian found himself mimicking her and hardly daring to breathe, not willing to share that she had already woken him, too intrigued by what he was seeing. Then after an agonisingly long few seconds she moved again and he too breathed a sigh of relief.

He could tell the moment that she found her treasure. The tension was gone instantly and she punched the air, doing a little wiggle of excitement. She grabbed her holy grail and pulled it out. It was a large white mug that curved inward at the base. The words “would you like an adventure now or shall we have our tea first” were emblazoned across it in an elegant handwritten scrawl. He couldn't help but laugh that this ridiculous gift from Belle - who knew his affection for Peter Pan (even if he did have an intense dislike for the eponymous character) - was her object of desire.

He realised his mistake at once.

She froze. He cringed. _Busted,_ seemed to be their simultaneous thought.

Emma turned around slowly, hugging the mug to her. “How long were you watching me? Why didn't you tell me that you were awake?” she questioned, her accusing tone hard to ignore.

“Just a moment!” was his defensive reply, _a moment too long, you creep,_ his inner demon hissed at him. “I didn't want to - I didn't mean -” he sighed and started over. “I'm sorry. I was trying not to startle you and honestly I was curious about what you were so desperate to find, but that was kinda creepy and, yeah, I shouldn't have done that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” _Stop talking you babbling buffoon!_

He expected Emma to lash out at him, perhaps remind him of some boundaries, but to his surprise she simply blushed and set the mug on the counter.

“Oh it's nothing,” she brushed off, “that's just the perf- a good size. For tea. If you happen to like that sort of thing.” She shrugged and slumped back against the counter in such a forced gesture it was almost comical, a parody of nonchalance.

Killian eyed her thoughtfully, realising that she wasn't used to having nice things. Or not used to being allowed to keep them. “You have it, love,” Emma's eyes lit up but she simply shrugged again, trying desperately to convey utter indifference. He knew only an equally strong display of indifference from him would induce her to accept it now. “I don't much care for it anyway, Belle should have known better than to get me a mug with that demon Peter Pan's words written on it.”

“He comes to your realm too?” she gasped in horrified amazement, the mug temporarily forgotten.

“Err, no? I just don't like the character in the book.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Perhaps that's just lingering bitterness on my part that he didn't steal me from - from normal life.” He had inadvertently almost revealed too much of his sorry beginnings in life, perhaps after feeling as though he intruded on Emma, she deserved his vulnerability.

But this felt too much.

Something about her though loosened his tongue, he felt a strong kinship with her that he could not explain. What could he possibly have in common with a princess? And why did she have that look in her eyes that he so often saw reflected in the mirror - the look of an orphan? She was a mystery. One he couldn’t solve without giving up his own secrets. But he wasn’t ready yet - maybe he wouldn’t ever be.

“So, you want to go get some new clothes this morning?” He asked, breezing past the awkward moment.

“I don’t need any - I’ll be fine in what I have.”

“Didn’t we cover this last night? Hardly seems fitting for a bad ass motherfucker to go around saving the realm looking like they might be doing a walk of shame.” Emma’s eyes narrowed at his words. He couldn’t be sure if his meaning was unclear or if she was just deeply unimpressed by it, but he felt the need to clarify. “Not that I think a lady should be judged by her clothing - never judge a book and all that - I just think that something more practical might be helpful.” _Plus the tabloids will have a fucking field day if they catch sight of her performing magic while scantily clad,_ he thought. Right or wrong, this society was obsessed with women’s clothes and she didn’t deserve to be attacked over something that held no bearing over her ability to help.

“You’re right. I just feel like I owe you so much. Everything that you’re doing - that you’ve done. It’s a lot.”

“I’m not sure if I can ever do enough to make up for taking you from your realm. Possibly forever.”

There was the smallest grimace of pain that flashed across her face at his words. The most fleeting microexpression. If he weren’t studying her so intently he might never have noticed. But he was and he did and he felt sick at hurting this wonderful person. “This isn’t forever.”

“No?”

“I believe you can do this.”

 _Bloody hell,_ he didn’t deserve this utter faith in him. He’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone so completely on your side, to just _know_ that he would do the right thing. That he could fix this. It had been so long since he’d had this.

Since Milah.

And once again he was stuck in a cycle of shame. Distressed at letting Milah down. He’d forgotten her. No. Not forgotten. But he’d lost her inside his stupid brain that couldn’t figure out how to save her or how to keep her memories fresh and alive.

_Stop it._

He couldn’t do this again, not right now. He needed to break free of this cycle of shame, torment, and regret that was making him sick, keeping him stuck.

He took a deep breath of that clear, sweet, fresh air and closed his eyes. He felt a light touch on his arm. He started and looked back up into Emma’s disconcerted face.

“You okay in there?” she asked. “All this faith can be pretty intense, can’t it?”

He nodded slowly, intrigued. He’d found himself beginning to think of her as an open book to him - it never occurred to him that he might look the same to her.

“I think we understand each other pretty well, you and I. You think that I’m - what was it you said - marvellous? something like that? You’re so sure that I can just do this all so well, and that’s really … great. But that doesn’t make this less scary because what if I can’t? You want me to trust that you’re right. Well, this is me saying to you that you should trust me. It’s ok if you don’t believe that you can sort all this out, because I’ll believe in you enough for the both of us, got it?”

Killian felt embarrassingly close to tears at Emma’s emotional plea.

God this was one of the things that he missed most about having a partner. Milah’s support meant everything to him, and even when he didn’t - _couldn’t_ \- believe in himself she was always there for him. He’d lost so much when she died, and not just because she was gone, but because he shut himself off from the possibility of having someone else be there for him. He couldn’t let her be dead, _he needed her not to be dead,_ so he tried to will her back into existence. And now that he was finally beginning to really come to terms with her loss - to accept that perhaps there was someone else who could be a true partner to him - he would have to lose her too.

The universe was laughing at him.

The universe felt a lot like Gold with his stupid high pitched giggle. He wanted to punch the universe in the goddamn face. Or maybe that was just Gold. But for once he wanted to show the universe, or Gold, or whoever that he could be better than this, that he wouldn’t be destroyed again.

He was ready to heal.

 “Yeah, let’s do this. Don’t stop believing, hold on to that feeling.” He tried to be serious, but he smirked at the stupid reference, even if he was going to have the Glee rendition of that song in his head for the rest of the day.

Emma cocked her head to the side. “Why do I feel like you’re quoting something at me?”

His smirk turned to a laugh. “Because I am.”

She punched the air in delight. “I’m getting good at recognising these references of yours,” she said with a cheesy grin over her face. “Now, can we stop with all this serious talk and eat something? I’m _starving.”_

It took them far longer than it should have to get going that day - lingering over breakfast and both having lazy showers as though they didn’t have an important mission for the day. Maybe it was just that “purchase a new wardrobe for the princess” didn’t feel quite as significant as “fix whatever gaping wound in reality you’ve created”, but he didn’t feel the urge to rush.

They ambled down the city streets, past tall blocks of flats and two storey brick buildings. Past building work that was sure to make some flat owner incredibly pissed off that the grand view of the London skyline that they paid extra for was about to be blocked out. Past grand architecture, which clearly impressed and possibly even awed Emma in the way that London architecture often did with newcomers when to Killian it had become simply the bog standard backdrop to his life, and past scruffy shops, which did not.

They reached a barber’s shop with golden awning, ornate lettering announcing it to be the imaginatively named BarberBarber. A hipster sat in a vintage leather barber’s chair in the window, no doubt paying extra for the “authentic old school touch that money can’t buy” as he had his beard sculpted into the latest facial hair du jour.

Killian paid the shop little mind, turning right and walking through an impressive set of metal gates into a covered market.

He casually looked at Emma out of the corner of his eye as they strode through the stalls selling leather bags in a variety of shapes of satchel, all manner of quirky signage to suit your every interior decorating whim, scarves in every colour and pattern imaginable, tasteful abstract art, vintage pocket watches and other antique fripperies to suit the discerning hipster and foods of all varieties.

Milah used to love it here. So bustling and full of life. Excellent for people watching. Great for bargains. Occasionally offering hilarious items that they could only guess at the use of - usually ridiculous suggestions made in hushed whispers into each other’s ears until they had to quickly move on before earning the seller’s ire. He was letting Emma into a part of their London, and he desperately hoped that she approved.

Judging by her wide eyed looks of wonder, curiosity, and, occasionally, complete confusion, she did.

He made a beeline for a stall he always loved that sold genuine vintage band t-shirts at knockdown prices. They rifled through the racks, looking for possibilities. Emma made Killian smile by pulling out a ginormous Beatles Yellow Submarine t-shirt her eyes shining with glee and holding it up to herself.

“Bit big, don’t you think?” he commented, arching one eyebrow.

She blushed. “I’d wear it as a dress with a belt. I don’t know. I like yellow. But … yeah, it was a stupid idea.” She started to put it back, looking crestfallen, but he stopped her, feeling guilty for mocking her.

“If you like it, it’s yours.” Her smile lit up her whole face and Killian knew then, he would do anything to see that smile again.

They continued on, taking in different stalls and gathering up things that she would need, before it occurred to him that she would need underwear. He was certain that she wouldn’t appreciate him trailing along as she bought panties and bras so he pressed money into her hand and gestured her towards a suitable stall, fiddling with his ring as he waited.

She returned soon after, face flaming red. She clearly had bought something, but she was clearly deeply flustered by the experience.

Knowing he’d probably regret it, he took a deep breath. “Everything okay, Swan?” he asked, scratching at his ear.

“I - I -” she looked around awkwardly and leaned in close to him “- I don’t understand the corsets you have in your realm.”

“Oh!” He felt his own face redden as blood rushed to his face and he tried hard not to picture what she did - or possible did _not_ \- have on under his shirt. “Perhaps I could ask Belle to join us later and help out?” he asked, hoping that his voice hadn’t really risen an octave as he spoke, although he rather suspected that it had.

“Seriously?”

She was utterly incredulous and he could tell that this was the wrong thing to have said. “Yyyyeesss?” he said slowly, unsure what else to do.

“She’ll hardly believe that I’m really your colleague if I don’t know anything about… bras I think the sign called them?” Killian opened his mouth, honestly unsure of what the right answer might be to this excellent point. Emma sighed in frustration. “It’s fine, I’ll just go without.”

He really wished she hadn’t told him that. He made a show of looking away, so as not to stare at her chest. As he did so, he thought he caught sight of a familiar - and unwelcome - face in the crowd. But when he looked again, there was no one he knew in sight.

“Killian?”

He was still scanning the crowd suspiciously when Emma got through to him. He had no idea how long she’d been talking for. “Hmm?” he asked absentmindedly.

“I was just asking what’s next?”

“Oh love, you’re in for a treat,” he said, eyes gleaming.

He took her on a tour of the street art that was in and around Brick Lane. Emma gasped at the fine detail of the giant hedgehog on Chance Street, scowling at Killian when he laughingly clarified that such creatures did not in fact, exist in this realm - not at that scale, at least. She ‘awww’ed at the cute figures by Stik that were sprinkled around the area, wondering at how the artist conveyed so much with such simple drawings. She exclaimed at the vibrant colours they saw from numerous artists as they walked on by, loving the energy they brought to otherwise dull buildings.

Two moments stood out for Killian in amongst all of the beauty they saw.

He had a specific piece that he was eager for her to see, a large black and white heron on red brick. Emma was awestruck by the piece, gazing at it for several minutes in quiet contemplation.

“Thank you for showing this to me,” she said, eyes sparkling, “I can see why you love it so much.”

This filled Killian with pride and he couldn’t help but beam. “Milah painted it.” He smirked as Emma’s jaw dropped in surprise. “The council tried to cover it up a few years back but the community revolted.” He was boasting now and he didn’t care. “She always loved that street art was transient, that one day it might suddenly disappear, but to know that something she made is so special to other people, people who maybe didn’t even know her…” He gazed up at it, feeling a lump in his throat. “It means a lot.” He turned away before Emma could respond and strode off down the street, trusting her to keep up with him.

Later, he brought her to a car park that was covered in street art, walking past an artist holding spray cans, their fingers stained with colour and the chemical scent of paint in the air.

_The door slammed open, and Killian crept out of their room, grinning at the sight of Milah gulping down a drink at their kitchen counter. Her curls tumbled down over her hoodie and she wore scruffy trousers, paint speckled across her clothes and coating her fingertips._

_He snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He inhaled the scent of spray paint that always clung to her when she’d been creating on the streets. “You been painting, my love?”_

_Milah laughed and leaned back against his chest. “What gave it away?”_

_“Well you look awfully dirty, perhaps I could help you with that? These clothes need to come off for a start.” He grabbed her zipper and tugged on it._

_She batted his hand away and turned in his arms to grin at him. “Something tells me that I’ll end up dirtier after your_ help.”

_He licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” And he surged forwards to kiss her..._

Killian was nearly knocked down by the force of the memory slamming into him. It had been years since he’d recalled Milah with such perfect clarity. He could practically feel the memory, could _taste_ it, and it was all thanks to that smell. He was stunned. Perhaps he had been wrong to cut himself off from the art scene, if it could’ve kept Milah alive to him so completely.

“Everything ok?” Emma had at some point taken his hand in hers, and she was gently stroking it. Her face was a picture of concern. He hated that he’d worried her.

“Never better,” he said, putting thoughts of Milah to one side and tugging her into the car park. “In fact, looks like there’s a new piece for us to see. I wonder what it might - oh.”

He stopped short. Emma barrelled into him and they both stumbled. He pulled her into his side, placing his hand about her waist and pointing towards the freshly painted scene.

It was Emma.

She was radiating confidence, arms loose at her sides, wearing clothes similar to those she had worn when she first arrived in London, but with some key differences. Her vest was not worn on top of a shirt, and was fitted to her body, her boots stopped mid-thigh and she wore short shorts. There was a golden circlet across her forehead and her blonde hair flew out around her face. She stared down the viewer, looking strong and powerful, arms held loosely at her side, a lightsaber clasped in one hand. Light shone out from her like she was a goddess amongst men.

And alongside her were the words:

_Our Saviour_

_A true Wonder Woman_

_The Princess of White Chapel_

“Is that me?” she breathed, breaking away from him to move closer to the painting.

Killian smiled at the way she reached out as if to touch it, but stopped herself at the last second. “Aye, love. I’d say it’s a good likeness.”

She cocked her head, reading the words, and half turning to him, but seeming unable to quite tear herself away from the sight. “What does _The Princess of White Chapel_ mean?”

“You’re in White Chapel. It’s this part of London.”

She frowned at turned to him. “But how could they know what I am?”

“I don’t think they were being literal. See this and this?” He stepped towards her and pointed to the lightsaber and circlet in turn. “That’s Leia’s weapon, and Wonder Woman’s crown, they’re two incredible, feisty and badass princesses from our popular fiction. They’re showing that you’re just like them, so you should be known as our princess.”

Emma choked up a little at his words. “Oh. Oh, that’s…” She didn’t finish the thought, just stared hard at the sight, until she was ready to leave.

But the day wasn’t overtaken by intense emotional moments, they were able to laugh at the funny art, to grimace at the dark and distressing and revel in the joy of the creativity that adorned the walls all around them. Where yesterday it had pained Killian to be so reminded of Milah’s love of art, today it was a comfort, a way of honouring her.

The only dark cloud was the constant sense Killian had of being watched. Time and again he thought he saw an old ally out of the corner of his eye, only to find that she’d disappeared when he turned his head. It was unnerving. If she was around there could only be one reason: Gold.

Emma hadn’t been keen to try any of the curry places they’d passed on their meanderings so he was taking Emma to one final gallery on their way back to catch a bus to Borough Market, where he was sure she’d find something she’d like. From the poncy wording of the exhibition listing, he wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but it could usually be counted on to provide more examples of amazing street art. Stolen Space with its sleek painted black brick frontage nestled in between ominous looking tall fences with spiked tips (which felt slightly counter to the whole purpose of showcasing street art in Killian’s opinion, but what’s life without irony?). But, before he could open the door, she flung her arm out to stop him.

“Why does it say Wish You Were Here on the windows?” she cried out in alarm.

“Name of the exhibition I expect,” Killian replied, unsure what the issue was with this innocuous phrase.

She turned to him, exasperation spread across her face. “Don’t you people understand how dangerous wishing can be?” she hissed indignantly.

He laughed, and anger flashed in her eyes. He sobered at once. “I’m sorry, but we don’t believe in wishing here. That phrase is just a platitude that people write on postcards.” She had relaxed as he talked but still looked wary - at the word postcard her nose scrunched in confusion. “Notes that people send home from their holidays. It’s meaningless, just a way to say ‘thinking of you’, what’s the harm?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “God people in your realm are so stupid.” “Hey!” Killian butted in indignantly, not appreciating the slight to his intelligence. “Wishes always go wrong,” she continued, “they shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

“You’re taking be careful what you wish for a little too literally, love.”

“Really?” Her mouth had dropped open in disbelief. He hadn’t thought she could be even more mystified by him than she already was, but apparently her incredulity knew no bounds. “So you do _know_ that, you just choose to ignore it?”

Killian started to feel like they were having two entirely different conversations. “It’s just an expression,” he said feeling more than a little defensive over Emma’s continued ire.

Her face darkened and her voice went quiet. “You wouldn’t say that if you’ve seen the pain that wishing can cause.”

“Bloody hell,” he breathed out, face softening as he realised that Emma herself must have been somehow hurt by a careless wish. “I didn’t mean to upset you. We don’t - there isn’t -” He broke off, dropped his shopping bags and ran his hand through his hair. He wanted to find the right words to soothe this situation. “Wishes don’t come true here, it’s easy to be careless about something fictional -” Emma looked indignant “- I know that where you come from they are a fact of life, but here, they’re just another fairy story. I’m sorry for being so thoughtless.”

Emma studied her feet “sok,” she mumbled to the ground.

He stepped closer to her, intending to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, but he felt that prickle on the back of his neck of being watched and it made him anxious to leave. “Let’s skip this place and go get food shall we?”

They hopped onto the 47 and climbed up to the top deck of the red double decker bus. Emma was quiet on the journey, content to gaze out the window at the sights, until she spotted Tower Bridge as they made their way across the Thames. “Isn’t that where Lily landed the other day?”

“Yep. That’s Tower Bridge, it’s a major attraction.”

“Typical Lily,” Emma said, rolling her eyes.

“We’re on London Bridge - and we need to get off in a minute.”

When they were off the bus and walking towards Borough Market, Killian couldn’t help but wonder where everyone was. Usually this area was teeming with tourists and locals alike and while the streets were hardly empty there were still far fewer people around than he’d expect. It made him feel nervous, and he was already on edge.

When they made it to the market and he started to guide Emma around the stalls, he began to relax. It was hard not to, with the way she lit up at the sight of all the sweet treats on offer. He tried pointing out all the amazing savoury options, suggesting venison burgers, homemade pastas, cuisine from all over the world. But she still chose a salted caramel cronut the size of her fist and did a little wiggle of happiness, her eyes going wide with excitement as she took her first bite.

He good naturedly shook his head at her, as she refused to even try his duck fat chips. “These chips are actually legendary, are you sure?” he asked, taking one before stowing the rest in a paper bag as they walked by the Thames.

She shrugged. “My mom was taught how to use a bow and arrow by Hercules, legends don’t impress me much.”

“OK, so you have actual legends for family friends, my poor chips never stood a chance with you.”

“I’d definitely rather take a bite out of this cronut than Hercules any day.” Killian nearly choked at this unexpected innuendo, while Emma grinned mischievously, delighted at her own joke.

When he’d recovered from his coughing fit he asked somberly, “does he not quite measure up to the legend? The size of his herculean tasks not all that he claimed?” This earned him a smack. “You wound me, Swan,” he yelped with a grin.

Food purchased, he steered them towards the Tate Modern, aiming for the grassy area in front of it where they could people watch and he could finally settle down to enjoy his chips.

When they arrived it was already crowded with people driven to find any patch of grass they could to enjoy the sun in. An alarming number of whom had clearly been exposing far too much skin while wearing far too little sun cream and there was a veritable rainbow of sunburn on display. A few bold people had beer bottles in their hands, clearly ignoring the ban on public drinking in the area. Several people had picnics, most lazing on towels and blankets, but an ambitious pair had brought out a small picnic table, chairs, and appeared to be slicing up roast ham with a carving knife. Killian shook his head at some people’s idea of a picnic.

They found themselves a spot near a living statue performer who was sweating in silver paint and a silver suit. Killian had tossed a fiver into the man’s hat, feeling sorry for the poor bloke in the heat, marvelling at the endurance of both the man and his make up. He began a jerky robotic dance routine in thanks, which caused Emma to yelp and throw up her hands into attack mode in alarm.

“Relax,” he said with a laugh, gently pushing Emma’s hands down. “It’s just a performance.”

“Oh,” she replied, looking a little sheepish and laughing at herself. They settled down on the grass and he finally tucked into his chips.

“What do you think of it here?” he asked.

“It’s lovely, reminds me of a place back home.”

“Yeah I love it h-” He broke off as he yet again saw the ghost from his past. He had a chip halfway towards his mouth when he spied her, lurking at what she obviously thought was a discreet distance away. Ursula. She was undoubtedly following him and he couldn’t ignore her anymore.

“Long time no see!” he called out, dropping the chip back into the box as he stood up, instinctively placing himself between Emma and Ursula, at a distance though she was. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but we both know that’d be a lie.”

“Screwed up anymore lives recently?” Ursula replied cheerfully nodding towards Emma meaningfully as she strode towards them.

He seethed at her words and clenched his jaw, knowing that she was entitled to her anger. If he weren’t sure she was working for Gold, he’d even feel bad for her, knowing how he’d destroyed her life. As it was, he knew better than to respond to her jibes. “I’m sure that Gold has you out watching me, so just let him know that I’m not that easily intimidated.”

Ursula shook her head, as she closed the gap between them, a picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you mean, I’m just out enjoying a lovely summer’s day, like you and the lovely Emma.”

His nostrils flared and his jaw ticed as he took a deep steadying breath, trying not to let the use of Emma’s name get to him.

“Killian, what’s going on?” Emma stood up behind him, gently touching his shoulder to get his attention as she spoke. He turned to her, ready to offer her reassurances when Emma’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Fuck.”

He spun around immediately, kicking himself. He was sure that Ursula wouldn’t actually make a move today, or he would never have antagonised her.

What he saw was entirely unexpected.

The creature before him still looked like Ursula - after a fashion - their faces with their gorgeous smiles, chocolate eyes and dark skin were identical at least. But that’s where their similarities ended.

For one, the Ursula he knew tended to wear stylish, tailored clothing and was always impeccably dressed. Whereas whoever this was was wearing a fitted corset that accentuated her breasts and flared out at the hips, sculpted leather gloves that reached up past her elbows and an elaborate headpiece that looked to Killian like a cross between a tiara and sea foam.

For another, this creature had tentacles erupting from beneath her corset and slithering across the pavement and into the road.

 _“Bloody hell,”_ he muttered under his breath, staggering backwards and bumping into Emma.

“Hook!” the creature snarled, glaring at him with murderous intent. “Do you know how many years I’ve waited to get my tentacles on you?”

“I - I - I don’t believe we’ve met,” he stammered, as a tentacle snaked closer to him.

“Oh move over, that’s Ursula the fucking sea witch!” huffed Emma. She shoved him sideways as though being attacked by an angry mermaid ( _what do you call a creature that’s half woman half octopus?_ Killian wondered, a little hysterically) over a case of mistaken identity on the South Bank were a common occurrence.

She rushed forward with her arms stretched out before her. Bright light blazed out from her hands.

The blast hit Ursula in the chest. She staggered backwards with the impact, crumpling in on herself. The tentacle that was almost upon them recoiled and reached up to her chest protectively.

Her head snapped up.

“Oh! Princess Emma! I didn’t recognise you,” Ursula jeered. “Consorting with pirates? What will Mummy and Daddy think?”

Killian was bewildered by the witch’s words. Judging by the confused glance Emma sent his way, so was she.

He was dimly aware of many things around him. The living statue shrugging off his jacket, picking up his hat and settling down next to them saying “I can’t compete with this”. A crowd of onlookers gawking and filming. There was the screech of brakes as a cyclist slammed to a halt, leaping from his bike as it slid out below him, coming to a stop just feet away from the tentacles.

(He also had a niggling thought to be annoyed at the constant Captain Hook jibes about him, just because he had lost his hand.)

“Oi what the fuck mate?” the cyclist yelled at them in his thick cockney accent. He clearly had no sense of self preservation.

One tentacle reached out lazily towards the bike, coiling around the middle of it and squeezing.

Metal scrunched as the bike was crumpled as easily as if it were paper. The tentacle flicked it lazily into the Thames where it landed with a loud splash.

Killian could hear more shouting. Londoners really needed to learn some chill. And possibly watch a goddamn Marvel movie once in a while. Now was the time to get the fuck out of dodge, not yell at sea witches with the ability to crush bikes with their bare tentacles.

 _Tentacles,_ thought Killian, the hysterics bubbling out of him.

“You shouldn’t have done that fucking Octopussy!” the cyclist continued. _Perhaps they should start to include the rules of surviving apocalypse scenarios in cycling proficiency,_ mused Killian.

“I'm going -” but the cyclist didn't get to finish his entirely futile threat to the monstrous tentacled woman, because another tentacle had knocked him out.

Killian shook his head, unsurprised at the fate that had befallen the unwisely feisty cyclist, then looked up to assess how best to help.

Emma was firing magic at Ursula who countered with blasts of her own murky purple magic. Emma's pure light magic was clearly stronger, but Ursula’s tentacles gave her an edge. Four of them seemed to be struggling against invisible restraints, but the rest were writhing, thrashing and lashing out.

His mission was clear: _take out the tentacles._

His possible methods to do that were less so.

His prosthetic was far stronger than a standard issue one and could potentially damage a tentacle, but that would require gripping and squeezing one, which given their speed seemed unlikely. He scanned for available weapons, thinking mournfully of those that Lily had destroyed the night she sent his lab up in smoke. Perhaps he should replace his stash.

Carving knife: most suitable weapon, required running to the pair with the overambitious picnic, and trying to persuade them that he should have their knife while there was a dangerous creature within spitting distance and leaving Emma alone. Also risk that they’d just stab him with it themselves at seeing him hurtling towards them.

Broken bottle: easier to access quickly, risk of damage to himself and possible others to procure it.

Keys: in pocket, potentially useless against the sea witch but right to hand.

He grabbed his keys in his right hand, laced them between his fingers and made a fist around the keyring. Wolverine claw it was not, but it should cause some damage.

Now, how to fight a bloody tentacle?

He knew hundreds of ways to hurt a man - the precise points to hit with a swift blow and cause maximum damage. But do octopuses even have pressure points? He racked his brain for knowledge of the animal; crazy smart, wily and incredibly strong was all he knew. He was sure he'd read tales of octopuses escaping their tanks into sewers or simply to visit friends.

Perhaps distraction was the best thing he could offer.

A potentially foolish plan sprang to mind. He moved to action before he could second guess it.

“MOVE!” he barked at a gathering crowd who scattered, shrieking. He sprinted past Ursula away from Emma towards a busker with drums that he’d spotted at what he hoped was a safe distance away.

“May I?” he asked the drummer, who had stopped drumming to watch the action and now silently handed over his drumsticks.

He turned to face Ursula’s back.

“OI! URSULA!”

He banged as hard as he could on the drums as he shouted.

Ursula had turned to the noise as he hoped.

“Hey sea bitch!” he called cheerfully, striding closer to her, “you want to kill a human? Well I’m the worst human around!”

She snarled and lunged.

A blast of almost blinding light from Emma hit her in the back and she fell to the floor rendered immobile.

The air shimmered and Ursula the monster was once again Ursula the human.

“What happened? Where was I?” she cried out in alarm. She looked up at Killian and glared. “Gold will hear about this,” she snarled and ran off.

“Be sure to give him my love,” he taunted.

The crowd around them burst into wild applause. Several of them surged towards him, pressing money into his hand and complimenting them on the performance. He pushed through them all in a daze, brushing off the living statue who wanted to know how they did their special effects. He stumbled over to Emma who’d found her way back towards their abandoned shopping bags and his now cold legendary duck fat chips.

He flopped down beside her, sighly sadly at what was left of his eagerly awaited food. He stretched out on the grass, giving his heart rate a few minutes to return to normal, before he sat up and fixed Emma with a winning grin. “Well, Swan, I hope you don't mind my saying, but I think we make quite the team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks @distant-rose and @ultraluckycatnd for your help with this fic! If you enjoyed this let me know in the comments or come say hi on tumblr [@katie_dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

Killian returned to work the very next day, not thinking to grumble about sacrificing his Sunday when he knew how much was at stake.

The heat and humidity that had mercifully vanished yesterday were back with a vengeance. Even the short walk to his lab left him feeling sticky and glistening with sweat. His top buttons might never know how it felt to be fastened again, judging by the endless heatwave that rendered them useless, his thick chest hair providing more than enough protection from the elements. (In fact, in his more desperate moments he found himself musing on the benefits of shaving it off, willing to sacrifice his body hair to stave off heat stroke. Give him another few days of overheating and he just might crack and do it.)

It was actually something of a relief to spend the day in the air conditioned lab, even if he found himself struggling to unlock the mystery of how he had made such a mess of his machine.

He had to work hard not to fixate on how Emma might be spending her day; on whether she was safe. He knew she could handle herself, he just wished that she didn’t have to. But, this was the best way for him to help. He had to focus on finding a solution, on sending everyone back to their realm, on sending her home.

It became routine.

Wake up, go their separate ways, save the world, home to talk and laugh. Sometimes take a walk by the river, sometimes go to the grassy spot by the Thames for more people watching, sometimes show her films so she’d understand the comments she’d hear about herself from strangers - Harry Potter, Star Wars, Wonder Woman.

He would share stories of his day to make her laugh and she did the same.

_“A mermaid showed up in the Thames today.”_

_“A mermaid? Bloody hell.”_

_“Yeah - not even a nice one like Queen Ariel - one of the real nasty sorts that tries to lure sailors to their death and all that.” She rolled her eyes. “I sent her packing - mermaids don’t need portals to cross realms, she just heard about the carnage and wanted to join in.”_

_“They don’t tell you that side of the story in the Disney film.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Nevermind.”_

With every day that passed, he found himself drawn closer to her. He would sit a little closer to her on the sofa as they chatted. He hugged her just a little tighter and a little longer as they said goodnight. He fought that little bit harder not to give into the urge to kiss her as they said goodbye in the morning.

He was falling for this enchantress, and he was hopeless to fight it.

It was Thursday before there was any change to their routine. He stepped through the door and was immediately accosted by Emma.

“Hey. So, I hope you don’t mind, but I -”

“Hi there!” Killian’s eyes bugged out of his head as a red dragon about half his height jumped into his line of sight, cutting Emma off.

“George, we talked about this,” Emma admonished the dragon. “You were meant to let me speak to Killian first.”

Killian looked up at Emma, completely stunned. What was happening? Where had he come from? More importantly, why was he once again giving shelter to a dragon?

“His name is George? That is the _worst_ name for a dragon.” He was going mad, but that was all his mind could conjure up to say at this utterly bizarre sequence of events. He shook his head and walked into the living room, hoping that if he ignored it, it might go away.

“It’s the name my mother gave me!” retorted George, faint wisps of smoke spewing from his nostrils as he stormed after Killian. “And I know you aren’t talking shit about my mother.”

"I just…” Killian ran his hand through his hair in distress as he turned and glared at Emma who had trailed in after the pair of them, looking sheepish. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself and said in as steady a voice as he could manage, “Emma, why have you brought _another_ bloody dragon into my home? Lily was bad enough."

"Don't think you can talk shit about my cousin either,” George sassed him.

"Of course, I should have known you were related," he said, giving George a fake smile. “You’re both annoying as fuck.”

There was a flash of red as the dragon leapt for him… But then Killian found himself pushed back against the wall as though by invisible hands and blinded by light. Emma stood between them with her hands held up, creating a shield of pure white light that was separating him from the feisty dragon.

“If I let you two down, promise you won’t attack each other,” Emma said in a stern voice.

“Yes, mom,” George replied even as Killian said, “I won’t make the first move.” Killian’s reply earned him a glare from Emma, but she released her magic all the same and he could move freely once more.

“Are you going to explain what’s going on here?” Killian pleaded with Emma, ignoring the way George was sticking his tongue out at him.

“So, you know those dragon statues around town?” Emma began tentatively.

Killian clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in exasperation. “Yes.”

“They seem to have come to life.”

“Of course they have.”

“This one’s called George.”

“I gathered.”

“He was scared and all alone and well, he _is_ Lily’s family so -”

“So now we have a pet dragon?”

“Surprise?” Emma said weakly, as George mumbled _‘who you calling a pet?’_ under his breath.

He stared at her for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. “I should have seen this coming really. You’re a princess. Of course you need a talking animal sidekick to complete the whole Disney aesthetic.”

He was aiming for gentle teasing, but she went tense, just as she always did whenever her royal lineage came up. He should know better than to poke at that obvious sore spot just because he was annoyed with her - even if _George_ was a fire hazard, and was currently watching the unfolding conversion with undisguised glee. _So_ dragons enjoy metaphorical fires just as much as real ones. Good to know, he thought. _He might as well have fucking popcorn._

Emma narrowed her eyes. “I don't know what that means,” she said coldly, “but I know when I'm being insulted and -”

“Not an insult just a fairytale -” he caught himself before he said cliché, having enough self preservation to avoid making this even harder. “Just an observation. Disney was a, a er-” Killian paused, realising that animator, film maker, or any other usual descriptors would be meaningless to her. “He was a storyteller. His princesses always had talking animal friends and sang a lot -”

“I don't sing,” Emma interrupted.

“I beg to differ. You sing in the shower -”

“You been watching her shower?” George asked, horrified. “Oh honey, you have to find yourself a better prince.”

Killian's eyes widened in alarm at George's assumption. Looking at Emma's cold fury, she obviously thought that too.

“I didn't - I haven't - you sing loud ok?” Emma gritted her teeth. “It's fine, wonderful, actually. Your voice is enchanting, but I can hear it from outside the bathroom. Or, I don't know, maybe the acoustics in the bathroom are weird? I haven't really had many.. It doesn't matter, I'm sorry. Keep your little pet -” George scoffed indignantly “- I'll just -” He walked into the bathroom himself, closing the door behind him for an escape. Not before he heard George say ruefully, “he's no Prince Charming.”

Despite himself, this jibe stung. He knew he was no knight in shining armour, and he hardly thought himself worthy of a princess, but much as he knew that, he still had this irrational hope in his heart that she might feel different, and it hurt for someone else to point out how vain that hope was.

_This is a good thing,_ Killian tried to tell himself, _things were getting a little too cosy between you and Emma. No use settling into a domestic life with someone that you spend every working hour trying to permanently separate yourself from. Not to mention George will be able to help her, should she need it. Assuming he’s a little more reliable than his cousin, of course,_ he thought bitterly.

They hadn’t seen or heard from Lily once since she’d left his flat and that was a full two weeks ago now. Emma had looked simultaneously sad, annoyed and resigned to this treatment when he’d happened to ask after her one time.

_“Oh, this is typical Lily, talks about how close we are, all these things she wants my help with, adventures she wants to go on, then poof! she’s gone and I’m lucky if I see her again any time in the next three years.”_

He was right that George’s presence created something of a wedge between him and Emma. The dragon just annoyed him - no way around it - and while it could sometimes be fun to trade barbs with him, he found himself wishing for a bigger flat.

_“Jealous,_ mate _?” George had taunted, imitating Killian’s accent, on that first night he spent in their home as he had waited at the door to the bedroom._

_“Of the princess’ new pet? Hardly,” Killian scoffed, although he found he did have to remind himself that George would be curled up at the foot of the bed like a dog._

_“You should try telling your face that.”_

_Killian was about to answer back when Emma had opened the door to let George in. “Everything OK out here?”_

_“Fine” they both answered instantaneously._

_She eyed them both suspiciously. “Right, well, goodnight Killian,” she said and turned and headed back into room._

_“Night sweetie pie!” George called gleefully, then dropped his voice and hissed, “your eyes are greener than hers,” before following her and slamming the door with his tail._

_Killian had glared at the closed door and found himself resisting the urge to poke his tongue out at it._

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it was probably a good thing really. He didn’t need to get even closer to an unattainable woman. But he couldn’t deny that he was delighted when Regina had messaged him inviting them to dinner at her place on Saturday.

They were lounging on the sofa munching on toast when he got the message. He was scrolling through Twitter mindlessly on his phone. Emma, having apparently finished _Neverwhere_ , was now reading _The Golden Compass_. George was stretched out on the floor in a patch of sunlight that streamed in through the large windows, soaking up the heat that was already blazing despite it only being 8am.

“We’ve had a summons from Regina. Her Majesty requests our presence at her house tonight. Sorry, George, the Mills-Locksley Residence has a strict no pets policy,” he said with a smirk at the disgruntled dragon.

“And what exactly am I meant to do while you’re off having fun?” George huffed, hands on hips and wisps of smoke escaping from his nostrils.

Killian tried to look sympathetic, but he knew it came out as undeniably smug. “Alas, you’ll just have to annoy yourself tonight.”

George stomped off to the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

“Seriously?” Emma said with a disapproving glare. Killian merely shrugged. He was unable to find it in himself to care when he felt like he was melting, the heat short circuiting his ability to think logically.

This lack of perspective turned him into a simmering ball of frustration as he got ready and left for work. He nearly wrenched the tap off when the water took too long to cool down. He barked out swear words at a cyclist who made the mistake of veering into his path to avoid the fairy that had suddenly appeared in their way. He swatted at another fairy who had the misfortune to materialise before him, sending the poor creature flying into a wall. Dr Smee had wisely only nodded at him as he stalked into the lab, sensing at once that he did not wish to be disturbed.

It wasn’t until he had spent a solid hour cooling off in his lab that he began to calm down. And of course, regret followed.

He wasn’t good in the heat, Britain wasn’t built for it, and Killian himself even less so. His mother affectionately called him a “little hot bod” as he stubbornly refused to wear a coat as a child on all but the coldest of days and was quick to temper in the summer when the sun caused his blood to boil. Others were less kind, calling him hot-headed and fiery. He often thought that it was the others who had it right. This heat wave was fogging his brain and he despaired of ever finding a solution while the temperatures blazed.

And sorting out this mess was becoming increasingly urgent. At first only London had seemed affected by the oddities causing the ripples in reality and random realm crossing, but now they were spreading throughout Britain.

A famous statue of Merlin outside the Burger King in Carmarthen, Wales had caused widespread consternation when it magically transformed into the wizard himself.

(Although whether people were more shocked at the magical mishap or that Merlin proved not to be a wizened old man with a long twisting beard, but was in fact a handsome black man was debatable. In fact, if it weren’t for the stunned customers of the Burger King, who’d been distracted from their burgers for long enough to film the spectacle, Merlin might have been dealing with accusations of actually stealing the treasured Merlin’s Oak. As it was there was a decidedly nasty, racist edge to some of the comments made about the bemused wizard, who only wanted a way to get home.)

The Isle of Man had apparently vanished in a cloud of mist. Residents of the island were still contactable, although irritated at being blighted by poor visibility in the midst of what should have been one of the sunniest summers of their lives. Meteorologists were stumped by the strange occurrence, but one of the island’s leading mythologians insisted that they had actually been shrouded by Mannanan’s cloak. Reports in Ireland of someone claiming to be a sea deity with an invisibility cloak, while mostly dismissed as the ravings of someone who’d enjoyed a little too much Guinness, did seem to corroborate this theory.

Killian had to admit that this meant very little to him - he always got the place confused with the Isle of Wight and he’d never been to the tiny island in the Irish Sea. He only remembered the name at all because he quite liked the Tour de France and Manx Missile, Mark “Cav” Cavendish, the cyclist came from there. But still, an entire bloody country disappearing from view, even a tiny one that residents apparently called “the rock”, was deeply concerning.

And bizarrely enough what appeared to be genuine photographs from reputable sources were now emerging of the Loch Ness Monster, delighting fans all over the world who were now flocking in ever larger numbers to the Scottish lake.

The rebuild of his machine was almost complete, he only had to figure out how to reverse the changes that his machine had wrought upon the laws of physics that had somehow resulted in elements of an alternate universe forcing their way into the real world. No big deal.

Perhaps Emma was right - maybe this was all just magic. Perhaps where they were going wrong was to assume that they were in the Land Without Magic, and sorcery was the missing link in his calculations.

Or perhaps he needed London to cool the fuck down so he could sleep at night and stop theorising like a madman.

It was probably that.

As he toiled the day away, the sky gradually darkened. The storm clouds gathered, hanging over the London skyline with menace.

Killian sighed as he glanced out the windows just before he left for the day. He knew they needed this storm to break the intense heat, but he didn’t much relish the prospect of living through whatever damnation Thor had sent their way.

_Bloody hell, Thor himself better not show up._

The thought was only halfway to joking - he'd seen way too much by this point to dismiss it as absolute nonsense.

As he stepped out of the glass doors the first drops of rain started. He lingered in the shelter gazing at the spiked archway before him - it looked even more threatening in the gloom of the storm clouds. Should he bother with an uber? _It’s just a little rain,_ he decided, _might even be refreshing,_ and strode forwards with purpose.

He quickly came to regret this choice. He’d never known anything like it; British rain just didn’t come in this flavour. They were used to it raining off and on, when the weather could never quite decide what it wanted to do and would send a sudden shower to soak you when you’d been tricked by the sun into stashing your umbrella or removing your raincoat. They were used to it chucking it down at the perfect angle to render your umbrella entirely pointless. They were used to fine, misty rain, the kind that makes you feel idiotic if you carry an umbrella, but really gets you wet - even if you brought the brolly. (Really it was a wonder that anyone in Britain bothered with the bloody things, considering the lengths the rain went to to sneak past this meagre defence.)

But this rain? It was _warm._ The storm was meant to break the heat, not somehow, inexplicably add fuel to the fire. The hot, fat drops of rain left him feeling stickier than before, his shirt clinging to him as rain mixed with sweat, rendering the white fabric transparent and making a mockery of his refusal to bare his chest like the tomato-skinned residents of the city.

As the rain got heavier he started to run, briefly cursing his lack of umbrella, however pointless they may be.

He was soaked by the time he reached the flat. He resisted the urge to shake the rain off like a dog, and squelched into the living room. Emma was lying on the sofa, reading, George was curled up on her feet, reminding Killian of a sleepy dog, although he snapped to attention the second he entered.

Emma raised her eyebrows at him over the top of her book, but refrained from commenting on his appearance. George, still tetchy after the news that he would be spending the evening alone was far less kind. “Oh look what the cat dragged in, Your Highness, it’s a drowned rat!”

“Ha, bloody, ha,” Killian replied dryly. There was some kind of joke there, about how his voice was the driest part of him, but it didn’t quite come to him. “We have to leave soon, Swan, I’m gonna shower and change, you ready?”

“Yeah,” she said then frowned down at herself. She sat up and held the book down at her side to allow Killian to get a better look at her outfit, a simple slouchy top and denim skirt. “Unless… is this ok? Regina’s kind of fancy.” She chewed on her lip.

Killian moved as if to go hug her, instinctively wanting to comfort her, but a deliberate cough from George accompanied by a pointed look at the slightly puddle that was forming at his feet stopped him. “It’s fine. Regina isn’t as scary as she seems - and besides, it’s too hot for fancy clothes.” he said with a smile.

George winced and shook his head, then reached out and patted Emma’s hand. “You look smoking hot, just like always,” he reassured her. She shook her head instantly, although a corner of her mouth twitched up at his declaration.

Killian didn’t hang around to see George’s smug, triumphant smirk.

He was ready in fifteen minutes flat, eager to escape for the night.

He got the uber alert that Leroy was nearly there just as he strolled back into the living room. “Time to go.”

George pouted. He wouldn’t have thought that it was possible for a dragon to pout, but there really was no other way to describe the look on his face. He opened his mouth - and the thunder started, rumbling across the sky like the sound of drums. George’s eyes flew wide open and he slithered behind Emma’s legs, trembling. Killian cocked his head, shocked by the thought that this overconfident sass monster might actually be scared of the storm. A flash of lightning sparked across the sky, filling the room with light and George disappeared into the bedroom.

Killian’s jaw dropped. Emma met his stunned gaze. Her brow had crumpled with concern and she chewed on her lip.

“Do you think we should stay here for him?” she asked, eyes darting to the wide open bedroom door and back to Killian. “I’ve never seen him this scared.”

“I’m not scared!” George’s voice called out from the bedroom, “just remembered that there’s something in here that I need.”

Killian smirked and Emma rolled her eyes, they both headed to the door. There was a trembling lump underneath the blankets. “Something that’s in the bed?” Killian asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I need a nap,” George replied.

“You just remembered that you need a nap?” The derision was hard to keep out of his voice and he earned himself a smack on the arm from Emma accompanied by a look that plainly warned him to “cut it out”. He playfully pretended that it had hurt a lot more than it had, delighting in the way Emma tried to restrain her laugh as she shook her head at his antics.

George poked his face out from under the blankets. “Yeah, I just remembered that I’m tired of watching your embarrassing attempts to flirt with Emma. I’m glad that I have the night off to recover. Talk about out of your league - Emma’s so far out of your league, she literally belongs in a whole other realm.”

“George!” Emma admonished, blushing, as Killian gaped at him.

Of course, what he said was true, but it hurt to hear - especially from the dragon who was squatting in his home.

Before he could recover enough to reply, Emma grabbed him by the arm “Anyway!” she said brightly, steering him towards the door and calling behind her, “enjoy your nap, George!”

On the drive Emma looked agitated, nervously tapping her foot and shifting restlessly. Killian watched concerned as she squirmed from slouching in her seat to attempting to cross her legs to turning her back towards him and leaning against the seat belt and back to slouching again. Finally, she awkwardly settled with her chin in her hand, staring out at the rain. For a minute at least, because then she cracked her head against the window as Leroy took a corner way too fast - barking out insults at pedestrians as he went.

Killian was fairly certain that the storm wasn’t bothering her, but perhaps she was worried for George. He hadn’t known her long, and already he could see how quickly she took on other people’s worries and how much she delighted in helping them. She was clearly agitated about something - perhaps it had been unfair to expect her to leave her friend at home in distress.

_She was the one who all but pushed us out the door,_ he reminded himself.

It seemed unlikely that the dragon was the cause of her anxiety, but whatever it was, he hoped he could help to calm her. Carefully he reached out and placed his hand over hers. She jumped at the contact and her head snapped around to look at him.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Easy there,” he chuckled, “just checking everything’s ok?” It suddenly occurred to him - she’d been a little unsure about her outfit earlier, perhaps she was just feeling insecure about the night. “You’re not still worried about Regina are you? Honestly, I know that she’s a little - well, a lot - intimidating, but she’s a teddy bear deep down. Don’t tell her I said that. And she absolutely loved you. Anyone who puts me in my place deserves a medal as far as she’s concerned. You should have seen the way she smiled in approval at some of those witty insults you sent my way when we went out. I thought she might actually handover  Robin’s gold medal with ‘Best Insult Ever’ scratched onto it, and that’s his prized possession.”

“Oh it’s not that,” Emma said then looked down and began picking at invisible lint on her skirt, “not exactly. I … Well, Regina looks like someone from my realm. And that person, she, she fucking terrifies me.” Her statement was punctuated by a flash of lightning with a rumble of thunder hot on its heels. She jumped at the sound, looking embarrassed by her reaction at once.

“Fucking weather,” grumbled Leroy, not actually under his voice, as he swerved around a corner.

Killian reached out for her again and this time, Emma let him take her hand. He stroked it gently, and she stared intently at the way his thumb moved.

“I’m sorry to hear that, love. It must be hard to spend time with someone who has the same face as anyone who you don’t feel safe around, however much you know they’re a different person.” He grinned. “For what it’s worth though, Regina often scares me, she can be downright terrifying when you get on her bad side.”

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and he winked for good measure. “Well. Yeah. Regina seemed - well, nice isn’t the right word, but I liked her - so I feel horrible but she looks so much like the Evil Queen that it’s -”

Killian stopped stroking at the name “Evil Queen”, slightly stunned by this revelation. “Sorry, did you just say _Evil Queen?_ Like once upon a time she forced Snow White to eat a poisoned apple and all that?”

“Exactly. Snow White’s my mother.”

Killian could feel his jaw drop at this revelation, Emma was literally straight out of a fairytale. Perhaps he should consider seeking out therapy - just in case he was really just going crazy in the back of an uber with an overly grumpy driver.

“But really the apple thing was the least of what she did - I’m more bothered by all the massacres.”

Just when Killian thought this couldn’t get any weirder. “Massacres?” he asked weakly.

“She slaughtered entire villages hunting for my mother when she realised that her curse hadn’t done the job. We don’t call people evil just over a cursed apple.”

“Well, what’s a little cursed apple between friends?” He hoped he didn’t sound as hysterical as he felt.

Emma frowned at him and shook her head, but chose to reply to the rhetorical question. “So… yeah. It’s hard not to feel a little bit strange about being around her, which hardly seems fair.”

“Would it make you feel better to know that apples are banned from her house?”

She laughed and it was good to see some of that tension fade away. “Really?”

“Her step son Roland’s allergic.”

She nodded to herself. “Why do you call her your Majesty?”

“Bad joke. Her family has money - her parents are important, her dad had some kind of peerage or title, probably both, before he passed away, and her mum's the Chief Commissioner of the Met.”

“The what?”

“The police in London.” He held back a laugh at Emma's look of confusion. “The good guys, heroes, whatever you want to call them. Regina and Robin live in Knightsbridge - the rich part of town - well, one of them. It's about as close to a castle as you can get in the middle of London. Unless of course you live in Buckingham Palace, but Regina's not actually the Queen.” He cringed internally at his thoughtless comment, closing his eyes to avoid seeing her reaction. “I’ll cut that out, so thoughtless, I -”

The car screeched to a halt outside a row of beautiful terraced houses, all with white columns framing the porches leading up to their front doors. Railings to the side of the doors hid the discreet stairs that once upon a time led down to where the help resided, but now was just another indicator that the people who lived here absolutely had more floor space than you. Old fashioned street lamps of the style most commonly found in Narnia these days lined the picturesque street and were glowing softly through the downpour. The road remained free of the garish supercars that blighted other areas of Knightsbridge in the summer months, instead showing far more tasteful displays of the privilege of the residents - Bentley, Mercedes and Rolls Royce badges adorning the cars in shades of black and grey. The houses faced the private garden only accessible to those who lived on the street, hoarding the precious green space in the centre of London and keeping it for themselves like the miserly dragons they were.

Killian would hate Regina and Robin for it if only they weren’t the best people he knew. It was hard to begrudge them the best of anything.

“We’re here,” growled Leroy, a man who clearly didn’t care for driver ratings, and was fast cementing himself in Killian’s mind as simply “Grumpy”.

Killian said, “cheers,” as he put up his umbrella and climbed out of the car. He was immediately grateful that he’d remembered to grab it at the last minute. They were but two yards from the door, but would surely be drenched regardless. He hurried around to open Emma’s door and shielded her from the rain as she struggled to climb from the car. “As graceful as your namesake, Swan,” he said, taking pity on her and helping her out.

They rushed to the porch, folded the umbrella up as quickly as possible and up the steps to the door. “Some might consider it treason to mock a princess,” she said as he rang the bell, “and you know what the penalty for that is.”

He grinned, glad to see that her anxiety had lessened. “Lucky for me that you’re a forgiving and benevolent royal, then eh?”

If she said anything further on the matter, it was lost as the door flung open and a small blur flew into his arms.

“Killian!” He felt as much as heard the muffled squeal of his godson who had buried his face into his stomach.

He shoved the umbrella into Emma's hands then lifted Roland up into his arms with an exaggerated groan. “Have you been eating rocks again, Roland? You know that’s not good for you.”

“No, Killian, I just really, really big now,” Roland answered seriously.

“Roland, what have I told you about ope - oh hi Killian, lovely to see you again, Emma.” Regina’s scolding of her stepson melted into a smile on seeing him wrapped up in Killian’s arms.

It was moments like this that always made it hard for Killian to take Regina’s icy demeanour too seriously. He looked to Emma to mutter something to that effect, but was surprised to see she was looking at him with a similar soft expression, albeit one tinged with sadness. The softness evaporated into awkwardness on seeing that she had his attention.

Robin came up behind them and smiled at everyone. “Come in, before the rain gets in.” He said, stepping back to let them past. Emma stepped inside and Killian followed, moving as if every step was taking all of his energy, grunting as he did so, delighting in Roland’s appreciative giggles. “We were just waiting on you to get here so this little monster -” Robin nodded to Roland, who snarled on cue “- could say goodnight.”

Roland put his hands on Killian’s shoulders and pushed back in his arms to look him in the eye. “I a big, scary monster Killian! Raaaaahhhh!”

Killian always forgot how cute Roland was until he was around him. He had to fight back the urge to smile indulgently and instead played along, pretending to drop him with shock, but catching him immediately. The boy shrieked and giggled. “Againagainagain!”

“Big, scary monster, I think your daddy just said it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“I get to say goodnight first!” Roland whined.

“Oh alright then, goodnight Roland,” Killian said and pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Goodnight!” With that Roland wriggled his way out of Killian’s arms and ran to Regina grabbing her hand and dragging her to the stairs. “I go bed now.”

“Make yourself at home while we get him off,” Robin said then rushed after the pair. The sound of roaring, giggling and thumping gradually faded as the trio went upstairs.

“So, that was Roland,” he said with a laugh, turning to Emma.

She appeared to be trying to vanish into the wall. He chuckled. “Everything alright, love?” he said. At times Emma reminded him so much of the little mermaid, only just discovering how to walk on land, a ball of awkwardness and charm.

“I'm getting the nice floor all wet,” she mumbled apologetically, “with the rain shield thing.” She held up the umbrella, which dripped pathetically around her feet.

Smiling, he took it from her and placed it in the umbrella stand by the door. “Unfortunate side effect of the Great British Summer. Even the best I've ever known comes with a large side order of rain. Admittedly it's usually less.. apocalyptic, but honestly, no harm done.” As he talked, he kicked off his shoes and placed them neatly by the door. Once she had followed suit, he guided her up the stairs to their grand living room.

“It's very… pale,” she said, scrutinising the white walls, beige rug on the wooden floor and delicate green sofas with an anxious edge to her voice. Everything was tasteful, clearly expensive and while the cosy throws on the sofas and Roland’s framed family portrait on the wall, marked this as a family room, it was impossibly spotless. In short, it looked like a recipe for disaster for someone who at times seemed incapable of controlling her limbs.

“Don't worry, they only serve clear beverages in this room, can't have red wine sullying the overpriced carpet,” he said with a wink. “Places around here come in a variety of shades of beige as standard. I believe it creates the illusion of space so that the wealthy can tell themselves they really do live in the palaces their obscene money should have been able to buy. At least this place looks like real people actually live here and not like Louis XVI’s interior decorator attempts minimalism, which I believe is the style du jour.”

“I'm sure you meant that as an insult to the rich, but it comes off kind of bitter. Not jealous are you?”

“Of the rich as a species? Nah. Of Robin and Regina? Absolutely, but then I don't deserve all that they have.” He tried to downplay it, but his self loathing seeped out in his words and he studied the carpet to avoid seeing Emma's reaction.

“You don't really believe that do you? You deserve a family.” His eyes leapt to hers in surprise, anyone else would've thought he meant the house, or the money, but Emma? She really understood him, and she knew what he meant at once. “Thing is, I'm pretty sure you've got one. There's a little boy upstairs who clearly adores you.”

He scratched at his ear awkwardly. “Aye, Roland's something special,” he said and would've added a self deprecating comment, but that _look_ was back on Emma's face, the one that suggested the way he talked about Roland made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Have you known them long?”

“I met Robin at uni, we were in halls together -” he caught Emma's look of confusion “- we lived together in university accommodation - he was the first person I met, actually - so I've known him for, _bloody hell,_ just over half my life now. We were always close, but when he lost his first wife, Marian, Roland's mother, it brought us closer together. He met Regina at a support group for people who have lost their partners and it wasn't long before they were married.”

“They both lost loved ones?”

“And found each other. Meanwhile I lost Milah and my hand and am in the process of destroying the world.” He could feel the bitterness in his words and didn't want to examine that further. Or think about how he found Emma, not when he didn't get to keep her, so he barreled on. “I didn't meet Regina until she was dating Robin, but as I understand it, she fell in love with a man who worked for her family and her mother had disapproved, which I think was equal parts snobbery and genuine concern that she was being taken advantage of by an older man. She had distanced herself from her family and her wealthy friends who didn't understand that Daniel was genuinely in love with her, so when he died of a sudden heart she was left alone. Meeting Robin has also helped her to reconcile with her mother. He’s from a far more respectable family, and Marian was a Lady, so he's got the appropriate connections.”

“Sounds a little cynical.”

He shrugged. “Cora may mean well, but she also cares a lot for appearances. She wants Regina to be happy - as long as it's with a suitable match.”

“You're on first name terms with Regina's mother?”

He flushed a little, really not wanting to explain that while he'd known Regina for just three years, his association with her mother went back much further, to when his bitter and angry younger self thought nothing of consequences in his quest to bring Gold to justice. If he had to seduce a high ranking police officer to get it, he would. (And if said police officer was a gorgeous woman, all the better for him.) Emma’s eyes narrowed at him and she cocked her head thoughtfully, seeming to read what he wasn’t telling her in his eyes.

“Hey, Regina says we can go down for food now, if you’re ready.” Robin leaned into the room to deliver his message, and Killian sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

“Sure, let’s go, Swan,” he said turning to his old friend and ushering Emma out of the living room and away from the difficult conversation.

***

The meal was a great one - Killian always loved Regina’s cooking, and today was no exception. She’d cooked her speciality, lasagne, with a side salad. They’d long since finished her homemade summer fruit pavlova ice cream, which she’d brushed off as “something I just threw together”, although her delighted grin made it clear that she appreciated the recognition of her culinary skills. Now they were sipping glasses of rum and talking about everything and nothing.

The dining room was lit by candlelight, both on the table and in the unused fireplace, the soft light of the lamps on the mantelpiece and the glow of the street lights shining through the window. Killian and Emma sat at one side of the dinner table, Regina and Robin in the other. Killian had pushed his chair back and was lounging in it, one foot rested up on the opposite knee. He was quiet, smiling at Emma as she threw her head back and laughed at Robin’s recounting of a story from their unidays. She seemed relaxed, content and what is more, he felt the same. It was getting harder and harder to remind himself that he had to let her go. The target Gold had placed on her back seemed somehow unreal compared to this happiness.

A loud crash of thunder rang out. There was a pause as they all looked at each other, startled by the noise. They were on the verge of collapsing into giggles at the sudden tension broke when there was a flash of lightning and Regina vanished.

In her place sat the Evil Queen.

Killian had never met the woman, but that much was clear. She had Regina’s face, but that’s where the similarity ended.

Her hair was piled on top of her head in a sweeping updo, except for a few artfully placed strands that draped along her forehead to frame her face. She wore a reptilian leather jacket, with large puffy shoulders and an oversized collar that was turned up. It was fastened just below her breasts, creating a plunging neckline that accented her cleavage and highlighted that she only wore a lacy push up bra underneath. The look was completed with an ostentatious pendant necklace with a large black diamond at the centre and multiple strands of black crystal beads lying along her collarbone and dripping below the pendant to point down to her considerable assets.

Regina wouldn’t be seen dead in something this over the top.

Killian’s eyes darted unthinkingly towards Emma, who had momentarily frozen in fear. Gone was the wide easy smile that overtook her whole face, and instead she radiated pure dread.

Regina’s lip curled. “You!” she growled at Emma. She twisted her right hand and produced a fireball.

The reaction was instantaneous - all three friends leapt to their feet, but Killian and Robin could only watch, powerless to help. Emma, however, immediately raised her hands before her and magic flowed from them. One hand created a shield around the men, the other pointed to the queen. It extinguished the fireball, but stoked Regina’s ire. She growled and raised her own hands. Emma had anticipated her. She used her brilliant white magic like a rope, twisting it around the hissing witch.

The Evil Queen twitched and twisted. She spat and snarled. But nothing could free her.

Killian was overcome with admiration for Emma. She looked so bold and powerful, easily restraining the villain. He looked back to the Evil Queen, and she was Regina once more.

Emma startled and her magical restraints and shield evaporated at once.

Regina looked around, pale and shaking. “What happened? I was in -” she swallowed hard - “I was in a dungeon.” She broke off into sobs and Robin wrapped his arms around his wife, who curled into his chest at once.

Killian stared before him, his eyes unseeing, thoughts racing. What if Regina had been stuck in that awful place? What if they had been stuck with the Evil Queen forever? What if it happened again, when Emma wasn’t around to help and Robin and Roland were -?

Bile rose in his throat at the thought of anything bad happening to the boy. He had never hated himself more. He knew that terrible things were happening, but so long as they happened to nameless, faceless strangers he could forget about it and carry on in a fantasy where Emma belonged with him. What was the world’s suffering compared to his own happiness? And now, he had to face the truth: his selfishness was causing innocent people pain and suffering, and he had to do all that he could to make it stop.

“Who are you and what did you do to my wife?” Robin’s words snapped him out of his self-flagellation. Regina still had her face buried into Robin’s chest and he had his arms wrapped around her protectively. He was glaring at Emma, his face cold and hard. “I invited you into my home and you -”

“I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t! It wasn’t me!” Emma cried helplessly, tears running down her face. Killian pulled her into his side with his prosthetic.

“This isn’t Emma’s fault,” he said evenly. “It’s mine.”

His friends both looked around to him, alarmed. Emma continued to mutter “I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t…” to herself. His jaw ticked and his eyes watered as he realised that it was time for him to come clean about everything that had he had done.

“I think we should sit down. I’m sorry, I’ve let everyone down.”

***

When everyone was settled, Emma much calmer at last, but still curled in on herself, her head buried in her hands. Regina and Robin were looking at him expectantly, their hands on the table in front of them grasped together so tightly that their knuckles were white.

“You know what losing Milah did to me - and who caused her death - I let you all think that I stopped pursuing Gold, but the truth is that I just switched tactics.” He stared at his hands, the real and the prosthetic, knowing that if he met his friends’ eyes he wouldn’t be able to continue. “My studies led me to believe that time travel might be a possibility -” Regina gasped - “so I have been working on a time machine with the intention of going back to save Milah and murder Gold.”

“Fuck,” Robin breathed.

Still Killian didn’t look at him. He needed to let them know everything. He wet his lips, and felt himself trembling all over.

“Gold has long loved messing with me. His latest play was to get the uni to withdraw my funding at the end of the academic year.”

“He can’t do that!” Robin yelled indignantly.

Were he in his right mind, Killian would’ve appreciated the show of support even in the midst of his terrible confession, but he was stuck on auto pilot, unburdening his soul, and he couldn’t be stopped.

“I knew that my time machine was unstable, but I was desperate.” He felt goosebumps spread across his skin, his body tingling and the trembling increased. He tried to shut down the pain and talk. “So I tried to use it and it - well, the simplest way that I can put it is that it’s caused a kind of parallel universe to interact with ours. Emma here is Princess Emma from another realm, my machine brought her here. I brought the dragon here. All the people disappearing, all the statues coming to life, all the monsters that we’re seeing. They’re all here because I couldn’t let go of Milah. Because I didn’t want her to be dead. I’ve ruined so many lives and I haven’t - I couldn’t - I -” a lump swelled in his throat, his anger rising - “I failed her. I failed you all.”

He stopped speaking, giving into the overwhelming need to cry. He heard the scraping of a chair and a minute later, he was pulled roughly into Robin’s arms. “I’m so sorry, Killian.”

He gulped in a breath and pushed back from him, staring at him through eyes blurred with tears. “What? I - what?!”

“I wish that I had been more supportive when you lost Milah. You had so much to cope with, losing her and adjusting to life with a disability all at once. I worry that we rushed you into feeling better, because we just wanted you to be ok. It’s only when I lost Marian that I worried that we pushed you too hard. I can see now that we did.” Killian gaped at his friend who shook his head sadly. “I never should’ve expected you to be happy so soon when you had gone through so much. I’m sorry.”

Killian felt numb with shock, tingling with surprise. How could Robin be so good as to blame himself for Killian’s mess?

“I’m a grown man. I should have known better.”

“Yes you should,” cut in Regina. “You’re both idiots but you are both responsible for your own dumb mistakes. I love you both but if you’re quite finished with all the manly bonding, we need to figure out how to deal with what’s happening now.”

Killian laughed, stunned by Regina’s matter of fact attitude to everything.

“Now, Emma -” Regina turned to her - “I mean, Your Highness.”

“Oh you don’t have to -” Emma demurred.

“Nonsense, you’re a princess, I’ll address you properly, my mother would be horrified if I did any less. This person from your realm who took my place?”

“The Evil Queen.”

“Yes, her. Is my family safe if she returns?”

Emma drew her breath in sharply, and looked at Regina thoughtfully, before shaking her head. “No.”

“Killian -” Regina turned to him - “can you guarantee that I won’t swap places with my evil counterpart again?”

Killian wished he could give her hope, but he knew Regina well enough to tell it to her straight. “We’re close to a solution, but, no, I can’t.”

She nodded sadly and took a deep breath. “In that case, I must leave, immediately.”

“Regina, at least stay to say goodbye to Roland!” Robin pleaded, rushing to her side and taking her hands in his.

“It’s because of Roland that I can’t. I can’t put him in danger, I love him - and you - too much for that.” Her eyes shone with tears and Robin nodded sadly. “I’ll be at the Ritz, I’ll send for some things tomorrow.” She looked to Killian. “Fix this so that I can come home.” She gave Robin a tender kiss and left the room, pulling her phone from her pocket and calling for a car.

Killian stood in shock, he had torn apart the lives of some of his dearest friends and they treated him with nothing but compassion. Compassion that he was sure he did not deserve.

“Do you want us to stay?” he asked Robin tentatively, scrutinising the man who stood staring at the door after his wife looking crestfallen.

“Huh?” Robin whirled around to look at him. “Oh, no. No. Go home and get some rest. Then wake up tomorrow and work your ass off to bring her back to me, you got that?”

“Aye aye, captain,” Killian said, saluting his friend. He quickly ordered an uber, then tugged Emma towards the door. “Come on, Emma, let’s get out of here.”

Before he could leave the room, Robin seized him and pulled him into another hug. As they parted, Robin pressed a business card into his hand. “When this is all over, you call him,” he said, nodding to the card. “We’ll pay. Don’t argue with me, you’re not ok, and we’re going to help you get better. And I have a feeling that you’re going to have to face more loss before all this is over.” Robin’s eyes flicked to Emma, before looking back at him with a sad smile. “He helped me to come to terms with losing Marian. We’ll talk soon, OK?”

Killian stared down at the card in his hands: Archibald Hopper, Psychotherapist. Specialist Bereavement Counselling. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such good friends in his life, but if they could forgive him, it didn’t matter whether he could forgive himself. Right now, he had to fix reality and save their world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like George! Give me a shout on tumblr [@katie-dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/) if that's your jam or leave me a comment :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to find out what's up with Princess Emma?

Killian was lost in thought all the way home. His mind was reeling, replaying the evening's events, running through equations, thinking about everything that led him to this point. His brain skittered from thought to thought erratically.

It was giving him a headache.

At some point without consciously thinking about it, he had reached out for Emma and she for him. They had laced their fingers together as naturally as breathing and he was almost surprised when they pulled up to his building and he found himself anchored to her as he moved to open his door. The tug on his hand seemed to surprise Emma almost as much as him, and she looked at him uncertainly, gauging whether or not it was OK.

She looked so unsure and he couldn’t help the warm smile that spread across his face as a rush of affection for her. She was so giving and brought him so much joy, but she just couldn’t see it and he didn’t know how that was possible. Even now, when they had both reached for the other subconsciously, she still worried that he might not want to hold her hand and give her comfort. It was unfathomable.

He nodded reassuringly at her and staring her straight in the eye he brought their hands to his lips. Her eyes widened as he moved, entranced by his action. He brushed a soft kiss against the back of her hand, and she swallowed hard. Instinctively, he shuffled closer to her, drawn in by the silent encouragement that he saw in her gaze.

"You can get out now," the uber driver said pointedly.

Emma jumped and pulled her hand back from his so quickly she wrenched one of his fingers backwards. He gritted his teeth and took a sharp intake of breath, whether he was steeling himself against the pain shooting down his hand or calming himself to not punch the driver, he couldn't be entirely sure. But either way he needed a minute to simply breathe out the tension that now filled his muscles.

By the time he climbed out of the car, Emma was already rushing up the stairs. Had he misread that moment so dreadfully that his actions were so entirely unwanted? Was she better able to be sensible and consider that the moment for him to send her away was fast approaching and that it wasn't the time to get in any deeper than they already were? Or was she merely embarrassed by the presence of a witness to their moment?

He chided himself for even thinking such ridiculous lovelorn thoughts when he should be focussing all of his attention on the solution.

As he plodded up the stairs, he thought of Roland's face as Robin explained to him that, yes, mummy would be back, but not today and he couldn't say when. He could see his godson's eyes filling with tears as yet another mother figure was cruelly taken from him and Killian resolved that they would not be parted for long.

He had almost determined that he would put aside all this business with Emma and whatever attraction they shared for good, by the time he stepped inside his door.

But then Emma stepped out of his bedroom, almost running into him.

She gasped and looked up into his eyes, biting her lip in confusion. Unthinkingly he mirrored her action, as his heartbeat picked up and his breath quickened. He felt a tingle under his skin as he tensed in anticipation.

"George is asleep," Emma said.

 _I don't give a flying fuck,_ was the first thought that popped into his head. "Oh. That's good," was all he dared to say out loud.

They stood and looked at each other in the silence a moment longer.

Emma stepped back, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I can't do this," she said and moved as if to go back into the room.

"Why not?" Killian asked, desperately, reaching out to stop her instinctively. She looked down at his prosthetic on her arm and he dropped his hand away, worried that he had overstepped his mark. He stepped back and scrubbed his hand across his face in an effort to force the tension out of his skin, to stop himself from clinging onto her and never letting go. "I'm sorry, I know that we don't have much time," he started trying to keep his voice even. But Emma walked away from him into the living room and the passion he was feeling burst out as he strode after her. "But isn't that life?" he pleaded to her turned back. "No one can guarantee themselves a long happy life with the person they love, I know that better than most." He touched her gently on the shoulder. "Why not seize this chance while we have it?"

She whirled around, her eyes flashing with anger. "Because I've always been alone! Everyone leaves me!" She yelled the words out at him like they were punches but the fight flew out of her. "And I just don't know if I have the strength to say goodbye to you too."

They were both panting and gazing at each other, the hopelessness of their situation crashing down around them.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this. I would keep you here forever if I had the time to -"

"Don't blame yourself, Killian. We both know I have to go. I'm a fucking princess," she spat out the words with contempt.

"You don't have to be," he said simply.

"All I wanted, all my life -" he held a breath, after all that they had shared, had she been hiding that she was married all this time? "was my family. I wished so hard for them to find me."

He slowly let out that breath. He had long wondered about Emma's strange quirks, about her lack of regal mannerisms. He'd often thought that he noticed a look in her eye that he sometimes saw in his own, that of an orphan, but he'd dismissed it as nonsense. Only maybe it wasn't.

"Well what a stupid thing that was to wish for!" Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she finally stopped speaking.

He stepped forward, gently wiped away her tears and pulled her close to him. She nuzzled her damp cheeks into the crook of his neck and he felt her gasping breaths on his chest. He rubbed his hand up and down her back murmuring "shhhhh" and letting her breathing come to normal.

As she calmed, he thought of how agitated she had been at the name of that exhibit "Wish You Were Here", had Emma wished for a family and found that it came with a truckload of responsibility? The burden of the happiness of an entire kingdom that she had never been prepared to shoulder?

When at last he felt Emma pulling back from him, he released her and once again met her gaze. "Do you want to tell me what happened, Swan?"

She nodded, but didn't speak.

He took her hand and guided her to the sofa. He sat down and pulled on her hand to bring her down with him, but she resisted.

"Just give me a minute," she said. He watched curiously as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pouch. She sat down beside him and unfastened the pouch, trembling as she did so. "Hold out your hands," she instructed. When he did, she turned it upside down and tiny dreamcatchers tumbled out into his hands. "I don't like to think about it, so I keep the memories safe in these." She took one from him - a simple thing, no more than an inch wide, made of all white - and held it up between them. "I can't tell you what happened. But I can show you."

He was baffled, unclear as to her meaning, but he nodded nevertheless.

At his nod, she fixed her concentration on the dreamcatcher, which began to hover in mid air. She spread her palms and a white glow came from them as the dreamcatcher grew in size to something closer to a dinner plate.

His eyes darted from the hovering circle to Emma's face and back again, alarmed, overwhelmed and impressed all at once.

The ring seemed to catch fire, turning into a ring of orange light that had him leaping back in shock. Then it was like a TV had switched on and he was looking at a scene in a stables within the dreamcatcher's frame. He gasped.

"Take it," Emma told him.

He looked nervously from her to the strange scene and back again. Seeing no cause for alarm in her eyes, he gingerly reached out and took hold of the dreamcatcher. He had expected it to be hot, but it was cool to the touch. As he held it up to his face, the scene started to move…

**Enchanted Forest, 26 Years Ago**

Mummy had woken Emma up in the night and made her wear strange clothes - a plain brown dress and cloak with a large hood that hid her long blonde hair. It was weird, but she was excited, it was an adventure, like something out of a storybook!

They were in the stables now, the Huntsman - Graham he said she should call him - waiting to whisk her away on a horse, and fairies fluttering around, lighting the way.

"Don't tell anyone who you really are," Daddy had said as he hugged her goodbye, one arm holding the back of her head. "Say that you're Emma..." He paused to think.

"Swan! Like the cursed princess!" she shouted, wriggling away from him with excitement.

She thought her daddy looked sad for a minute, but then he smiled. "Yes, but remember, from now until we find you again, no one can know that you're a princess. The Evil Queen is looking for you -”

“David, don’t scare her!” her mummy cut in.

“You're just Emma Swan now," her daddy finished.

"Like a game?"

"Yes. Don't worry, Emma. Your mummy and I will find you. We will always find you."

He swung her up onto the horse, in front of Graham, who hugged her to him with one arm and held the reigns with the other as he nudged the horse forward into a walk.

***

Just one hour later, Emma was fed up.

Graham was always so quiet and serious and he was boring. Even if he grew up with wolves. She wasn't even with the really cool fairies, she had Yellow, Aqua and Purple buzzing around her. They weren't even in the Storybook, and everyone was in the Storybook, but here they were telling her what to do.

"Shhhh, Emma!"

"Stay still, Emma!"

"Eyes open, Emma!"

She didn't want to stay still and quiet if she had to be awake in the middle of the night. This should be an adventure!

Despite the permanent sulk she was in, her eyes grew heavy as she plodded onwards on the horse. Graham had one arm around her and his warmth and the gentle swaying were lulling her to sleep.

He seized her suddenly, jolting her awake. He'd stopped dead and so had the horse. He didn't seem to be breathing.

There was nothing.

Emma was scared and she didn't know why. She didn't like to be scared. When she was scared, her magic went crazy and she couldn't control it.

More silence.

She was just about to scream at Graham for making her feel bad, when, with a sharp kick of his heels he sent the horse into a gallop. The fairies just kept up, whizzing around Emma's head.

He squeezed her too tight and it made her mad. She was a princess and he was being mean, hurting her and scaring her and not telling her what was happening.

They froze.

The horse was stuck mid-gallop, the fairies twinkling light shining in her eyes, Graham with his fingers digging into her tummy.

She couldn't move, couldn't scream, couldn't do anything but wait for whatever monster that had done this to eat her.

"Oh so nice of you to drop by!" called out a high pitched voice in front of her. "I've been waiting for you, Your Highness."

The monster came closer, giggling.

The fear was taking over. She didn't want to know what had spoken to her. It sounded nasty, like her baddest nightmare come to life, and it made her hurt inside. She felt ready to burst.

The monster stepped into the soft rainbow light cast by the fairies.

Glittering, scaly green skin. Big, yellow teeth. Hungry, evil eyes.

"Hello, dearie."

The eyes flashed with want.

Emma screamed and exploded with light and magic.

"Take me away," she wished with all her might. "Take me far away where it can never find me."

When she woke up, she was all alone.

***

She didn't know where she was, but it was a shelter of sorts. A hollowed out fallen tree kept the rain off her face, but it wasn't enough to stop her feeling cold. And hungry.

She didn't know how to find food. She just asked for food and it appeared. Like magic.

Magic! She could always... she stopped, scared, the monster could be nearby still. She didn't want to try in case it found her.

Her tummy was starting to hurt and she began to cry. She had to go looking for food in the rain and that meant getting wet and colder still. She might have spiralled into a full scale tantrum if the fear of accidentally doing more magic didn't stop her.

Pouting, she stepped out into the soggy woods.

She stumbled around, tripping over tree roots and slipping in the mud. Her dress got muddy and torn. And still no food.

But then she saw berries and she ran to them, giddy at the sight. All black and juicy and yummy-looking. She pricked her thumb on a thorn when she first plunged her hand forward and pouted at the plant. More carefully she tried again, and this time grabbed onto a berry. She picked it and popped it into her mouth.

"'licious," she sighed. It was the sweetest, most bestest fruit she had ever, ever tasted. She went back for more and more and more, covering her face and her fingers in their sticky purple juice.

It took some time, but soon her belly was over full. It had gone from empty to fit to bursting and now it hurt in a new way. She groaned and sat down under a tree, too tired and full to care that it was still raining and she should find a better, safer, drier place to rest. The leaves kept the worst of the rain off her anyway. She closed her eyes, unable to fight off sleep.

***

"Hello, little lass, are you ok?"

Someone shook Emma awake. For a minute she was annoyed at Joanna for waking her up when she was so tired, but she blinked her eyes open and was looking up at a stranger.

Her lip trembled. Her maid was gone. She wasn't waking up in her soft bed, beneath her head was a patch of mossy earth. For the first time she realised that she didn't know when she would see her maid again. Or her bed. Or her mummy and daddy.

But they would find her, they would always find her.

She hoped.

She cried, and the kindly man looked alarmed.

"It's ok, I won't hurt you, lass, can you tell me where your mummy and daddy are?"

She wailed harder still.

The man waited patiently for her to calm down before trying again. "What about your name? I'm Oliver."

"EmmaSwan," she mumbled sniffling.

"How about I take you somewhere that you can get some hot soup, I live just down the road and my wife Katie makes the best. We can fix you up."

***

It was the next day and Emma had spent the night with Oliver and Katie. They were lovely, a wizard and a witch who gave her a hot potion that made her feel all cosy and warm inside. They fed her and washed her and told her stories about flying on broomsticks together that made her giggle.

Oliver had gone to the nearby village to find out anything he could about Emma's parents, which made Emma feel guilty. She knew where they were, but she promised daddy not to say who she really was, so she wouldn't.

She was helping Katie to knead bread. ("I know I can use magic to make the bread, but I like the feel of it squishing between my fingers," she had told Emma with a wink.) When Oliver arrived back.

"Any news?" Katie asked, giving him a kiss in greeting.

"Nobody knows about an Emma Swan, it's as if she appeared by magic." Oliver laughed and Emma looked sheepish and concentrated hard on squeezing and pulling the dough, just as Katie had taught her. "But there was a nasty story circulating about a catastrophe on the other side of the kingdom. Three fairies died."

Emma stopped dead still.

"Someone killed fairies?" Katie asked in a horrified whisper.

"Pink, Aqua and Purple," Oliver confirmed with a grim nod. Emma felt sick. "Nobody knows what might have happened but an entire acre of forest was razed to the ground."

Emma felt scared. Had she done that? Would these nice people be able to tell?

"They say it looks like some kind of dark magic."

Emma yelped and Oliver turned his eyes too her, as if he had just thought that she might not like to hear this, but it was too late. She had done something horrible. She hurt the fairies. She must have when she did the magic. But it was an accident, she didn't mean to!

Her fear overpowered her in a split second and without any conscious thought she found herself stumbling to the ground in a woodland clearing.

"You ok?"

She looked up, startled by a young boy of about five.

"Yeah. Fine." She climbed to her feet and looked around. "Um... Where am I?"

The boy cocked his head, staring at her. "You're weird." He grinned. "Welcome to Camelot! I'm Percival, who are you?"

"Emma Swan."

 

**Camelot, 22 Years Ago**

Emma had bounced around from place to place in the years since she left her parents house. Sometimes her magic seized her and flung her to a new place when she was scared, sometimes she was thrown out by people who were superstitious of having a witch in the house.

She no longer remembered that she was once a princess, or if she did, she thought it nothing but a lovely dream.

She had been with this latest couple for six months. It was amazing. They treated her like she was really their daughter and even gave her a dolly of her very own. They had long wanted a child of their own, and they loved Emma with all their hearts.

Her new mummy (for Emma had started to think of her as "mummy" in her head) had been sick and very tired recently. Emma didn't like it, she worried about something bad happening to her.

"Emma, I have something very important to tell you," her mummy said as she was tucking her into bed at night.

Emma had been feeling sleepy, but her eyes widened, alert at once. "What?" she whispered.

"Don't look so scared, Emma!" Her mummy said with a laugh, "it's good news! You're going to be a big sister!"

"I am?"

"Yes, there's a baby growing in my tummy." She took Emma's hand and gently placed it on her stomach. "That's why I've been feeling sleepy and sick."

"The baby's hurting you!" Emma cried out in anger and a spark of magic flew from her hand.

Her mummy jumped away from her, clutching at her belly protectively. "What did you do?" she gasped in horror.

Emma blinked up at her mummy. "I didn't do anything! You said the baby made you sleepy and sick!"

"It's supposed to do that! That's perfectly normal." Her mummy was looking at her like she was a monster, like she had never seen her before.

Emma shrank under the force of her mummy's glare. "I'm sorry," she said, confused.

The next day she was sent away.

 

**Camelot, 16 Years Ago**

Emma was older now, just barely a teenager and wearing clothes that were just a little too short in a way that suggested a very recent growth spurt. She tugged at her sleeves awkwardly, and moved as though unsure of how to manage her new, longer limbs. The beginnings of a lifelong inability to feel comfortable in her own skin.

Emma crept up to a market stall, she casually strode by, hand darting out at the last moment to swipe an apple from it. She knocked the whole pile over. After years of stealing to get by, she was let down by her own growing body that brought with it a clumsiness that she hadn't previously possessed. Her face flushed crimson, guilt written all over her features as she was flustered by her sudden inability to be stealthy.

The irate stall holder reached out to grab hold of her when they were distracted by a sneeze from a small dragon that sent flames flashing perilously close to their merchandise.

"Don't just stand there, run!" hissed a young girl with long dark hair, grabbing her hand and yanking her away from the market stall.

They ran for several minutes before Emma even considered risking a glance over her shoulder. No sign of pursuit from angry stall holders, guards or any human - although the dragon who had handily provided the distraction that saved her was flying close behind. They winked at her.

"What -" she broke off, gasping for breath.

"Not here!" the girl whispered, then glanced around, before tugging them down a shady alley.

"What - is - going - on?" Emma struggled to break out, pausing to gulping down air between each word and clasping her side.

"Girl, you got to learn some gratitude," the dragon said, fluttering down to land beside them. "We just saved your ass back there."

"Who are you?" she blurted out, looking from the smiling girl to the dragon with his hands on his hips and - was he quirking an eyebrow at her in disapproval? "I mean, obviously, thanks and all that. But, why would you get involved."

"Like to help out fellow thieves," said the girl, with a cheeky wiggle of her eyebrows. "I'm Lily, this sass ball here is my cousin George."

"I'm Emma - and, sorry, did you say that you're cousins?" The pair burst out laughing at the look of absolute bewilderment on her face.

Lily's eyes flashed gold and a swirl of black smoke surrounded her, when it cleared, a dragon stood where she had before. She flapped her wings once, then the swirling smoke returned and she was a girl once more.

Emma's mouth dropped open. "Wow. That was cool."

Lily grinned. "I like you, Emma. Come with us. My dad's Zorro, he taught me a few tricks and you really look like you need them."

 

**Camelot, 13 Years Ago**

Emma had grown considerably. Her long, blonde hair, green eyes, and general air of awkward discontent with her body the only indicator that this was still the same girl. At 16 she'd already seen and been through too much so that her once bright eyes no longer sparkled.

She was dressed in clothes chosen to blend in - drab trousers, a simple tunic and plain leather waistcoat - all caked in layers of dust and grime, patched in several places and evidence of further tears still in need of mending. The clothes hid her developing curves such that it was hard on first glance to tell what gender she was. She hated standing out. Nothing good had ever come of it and it didn't suit the occupation circumstances had forced on her - what use is easy recognition for the humble thief?

She was loitering at the edge of the market, leaning against a wall, with Lily and George at her side. Her friends were innocently people-watch, passing time while Lily waited to meet the latest deadbeat she was messing around with and George waited to do… whatever it was dragons got up to when they weren’t hanging out with humans. Emma, on the other hand, was scoping out possible targets.

The stalls and stallholders themselves were off-limits. Not only did she know them all, and many were kind to her, but also it paid to keep them sweet, for the odd occasion when someone noticed her and they would back up her claims that it was but an honest mistake. But the market goers? They were fair game.

It was easy to spot the people who were poor and were using the little they had to buy much-needed supplies. She avoided them, they deserved to keep what little they had. She sought out the merchants, the wealthy landowners, and - when she was feeling bold - the pirates.

“I’m off,” Lily said then pushed off from the wall, “catch you guys later!” she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

“Are you going to say something about this guy or am I going to have to do it?” George asked.

“Hmmm?” Emma murmured only half listening, as she still scanned the crowds. When he didn’t answer, she looked at him straight on and was caught with the full force of his glare. “Oh. Look, you know it’s best when I don’t get involved with Lily’s love life. She didn’t speak to me for weeks after I told her that last one was a dick. I was totally right to do it - he was literally a troll wearing a human glamour! _And_ he stole from that family I was staying with and got me kicked out.”

“I still don’t understand why you don’t just live with Lily.”

“Please, we’d kill each other if we actually lived together. Fiery vengeance doesn’t look good on me.”

“She lives in a castle. You could have an entire wing to yourself. You’re afraid to be comfortable, Emma. You should probably talk to someone about that.”

“Her mom is an evil witch dragon, she scares the shit out of me. Not to mention her creepy friends - The Evil Queen nearly burned my eyebrows off with a fireball last time I was there and she’s threatened to test out her curses on me if I got in her way before.”

“Aunt Mal needs to dump her ass.”

“God yeah and I should be happy that she likes Mal enough to not just kill her daughter’s friends?” Emma shuddered. “She’s seriously fucked up. Anyway, castles and me just don’t mix. I’m sure there’s lots of expensive, breakable things around that I would like to stay far away from. You know, to avoid angering the _evil witch dragon_.”

“I’m sure one day you’ll get the hang of walking in a straight line,” George said, patting her arm consolingly.

Silence fell between them, interrupted by the occasional biting remark from George. “Urgh that corset is doing you no favours, get yourself to a decent seamstress and let your girls breathe.” “Whoever made that waistcoat deserves to be burned at the stake.” “Jeeez, someone take away that dude’s hip flask, his breath’s so alcoholic that I could set it on fire from all the way over here.”

A flash of gold caught Emma’s eye. Something - a necklace, or pocket watch - disappeared into the inner recess of a hooded cloak, which covered the owner’s face.

She suspected some kind of passing aristocrat, playing at being a pauper for the day, attempting to hide their true identity. _Gotcha!_ she thought, and slipped away from George, who was too busy critiquing everyone in sight to notice.

She stalked nearer to her prey, watching from a distance, careful to ensure that she would not be noticed. When a chicken escaping from a cage at a nearby stall caused a small commotion, she saw her chance. She darted forward, bumping into him artfully, such that he would never realise it was deliberate and snaked her hand into his cloak quick as a flash. She grasped the watch and began to withdraw, when a hand gripped her wrist.

She looked up in horror, locking eyes with a grinning man with stubble. He pulled her closer to him and whispered into her ear, "don't steal from a thief."

"Everything alright here?" asked a gruff voice behind the man.

Emma looked up over his shoulder and saw a beast of a guard scowling at her with suspicion. He was easily 6'5", with broad shoulders and legs like tree trunks. She gulped. She did not want to be on this guy's bad side.

"Of course," said the man, pushing back his hood and whirling around to greet the man with a smile. "My lady here just got frightened by the calamity and needed me to soothe her frayed nerves, I think I should get her home now and really calm her down, if you know what I mean."

Emma bristled, but tried to act as if she really did want this total stranger touching her.

The guard leered at her. "I could always give that a go." She gritted her teeth, but somehow maintained a smile.

"If my efforts don't succeed, you'll be the first person I'll call," he replied solemnly. "Now, come along, dear." He pulled Emma in the opposite direction to the guard, not quite breaking into a run, but propelling them both as fast as possible away from him. He didn't stop when they reached the edge of the market and instead wound his way through back alleys and streets until at last he decided they were far enough away.

"What - the fuck -" Emma was panting as she tried to talk - "was - that?"

"Well that's a lovely way to thank your saviour, your welcome by the way."

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Listen, the only person who saves me is me. And I was trying to steal your watch, what were you thinking?"

"Self-preservation. That watch isn't mine. You aren't the only thief around here."

Emma gaped at him in shock.

"I'm Neal," he said, holding out his hand.

 

**6 Months Later**

Emma and Neal were holding each other close, kissing passionately. When they broke apart for air, Neal smiled at her.

"I love you," he murmured.

"Yeah?" Emma beamed at him, her whole face lighting up, she felt more alive than she had in years. "I love you too."

 

**Camelot, 12 Years Ago**

Emma was stood alone, waiting for Neal, he was meant to be here, where was he?

"Hands where we can see them," said a voice behind her.

She held up her hands in surrender and turned slowly, dreading what she might see. Sure enough, there were two guards with swords drawn behind her.

She was too shocked to say or do anything as they clapped her in irons and dragged her to the dungeons and shoved her roughly into a dingy cell, locking a heavy gate behind her.

"Where's Neal?" she finally found the strength to ask.

"He sends his regards," sneered one of them, before turning and leaving her alone.

 

**Oz, 5 Years Ago**

Emma was now a woman of 24, wearing a corset and layers of skirts. She was twisting her hands nervously as she stood in a woodland clearing, waiting for someone. She looked up at the sound of a twig snapping and smiled sadly at Walsh. He was a handsome man, beaming at her and dressed to impress in the hopes of hearing that Emma had accepted his proposal. She hated that she had to break his heart, but she knew their time together had to end.

As he drew closer to her his smile faded. "Something tells me that you didn't invite me here to give me good news," he said.

"I'm sorry, Walsh, I can't marry you. I just - I - I wouldn't be a good wife for you. I think I need to go home."

"You told me you don't have a home," he spoke lightly, but Emma flinched at the clear accusation in his words.

"Camelot is where I grew up, I ran away after - well, that doesn't matter - all you need to know is that I want to go back and I'm sorry."

Emma started to walk away.

"That's such a shame. You know, I actually kind of liked you?" Walsh growled to Emma's retreating back and it made her skin crawl.

She turned, ready to retort, and was struck dumb by the way his eyes now glowed red. He leapt at her, transforming from man to flying monkey mid-air.

She didn't have to think twice, she raised her hands and magic poured from her palms. The monkey formerly known as Walsh flew backwards into a nearby tree trunk and disintegrated.

“I told you we shouldn’t have sent a monkey to do a queen’s work,” a bored voice said from behind her. Emma spun on the spot. The Evil Queen was stood next to the Wicked Witch, she froze in horror.

“Alright, you’ve made your point, now can we get on with stealing this witch’s magic please?” the Wicked Witch said impatiently, rolling her eyes.

The Evil Queen’s eyes flashed with sadistic glee and a manic smile spread across her face. “Gladly.” She stepped closer to Emma. “When I think of all those times I saw you at Maleficent’s castle and I had no idea how much power you had? I can’t believe I let you slip through my fingers. Well not anymore.”

The Evil Queen raised her hands, and Emma finally remembered how to move. She flicked her wrist and and vanished in a cloud of white smoke, hearing the word “fuck” yelled out loudly behind her.

 

**Camelot, 1 Year Ago**

It was a beautiful moonlit night and Emma looked older still. She was locked in a passionate embrace with a palace guard under the branches of a grand oak tree that stood beside a stone castle.

When they parted, they were both breathless.

"I'm sorry, it's time I got home," the man said.

"Do you have to? I was thinking maybe you could come home with me?" Emma bit her lip and smiled, staring up at the man.

"I wish I could, but I have to go."

"Are you sure I can't persuade you to stay?" Emma swayed into him, raising up a hand to stroke his arm. "You wouldn't want me to be alone on my birthday would you?"

"Oh Emma," he laughed, but it was hard, cruel, "I don't think my wife would like it."

Emma's coquettish smile dropped at once. "Your - your wife?"

"Did you really think that I, that anyone, would settle for you? You're nothing." When Emma didn't reply, he smirked and left without another word.

"I'm not nothing!" Emma yelled at his retreating back, angry tears now sliding down her cheeks. "I was never nothing!"

She staggered back and felt the tree behind her, she slid down to the cold ground. _I wish I didn't have to be alone on my birthday,_ she thought to herself as she turned her face into a raised tree root and sobbed. There was a blinding burst of magic out from the tree that startled the tears from Emma's eyes. She scrambled away from the tree, and watched as the magic blazed and a minute later where once there had been a tree, now stood a handsome man.

"Hello, Your Highness, I've been expecting you."

Emma looked behind her, confused, then back to the stranger an expression of disbelief on her face. "Um, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm no princess."

The man smiled at her, a perfect, dazzling smile. "That's where you're wrong, Emma Swan. You were born Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest, the Saviour, the product of True Love. I'm Merlin and it's time to take you home."

Emma's mouth dropped open in shock. "Seriously?"

 

**Enchanted Forest, 1 Year Ago**

"Presenting Merlin the Sorcerer and companion!"

Emma scowled at the announcer, even if she understood that it was Merlin who left her identity vague.

If she was honest, as much as her feisty self-sufficient side rankles at the thought of being relegated to just a companion, she was mostly glaring to avoid looking around and catching sight of her supposed parents for the first time. The first time that she can remember, at least.

But as they were swept into the grand hall where they were to have their audience with the king and queen, eventually she had to just get over it and look at them.

They looked... nice. Like a nice kindly couple with benevolent smiles, deep laughter lines around their eyes and grey hair.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, maybe some clear sign that they could really be her family? A sudden sense of belonging? But nice would do.

The second thought was that they look rich. It was hardly surprising, they were royalty after all, but they were both dressed in elaborate clothing with fur trimming, intricate embroidery and gems decorating the fine fabrics. In Queen Snow's hair sat a delicate tiara made of clusters of pearls, King David wore a golden crown studded with rubies.

It was more than a little intimidating.

Merlin bowed, and Emma remembered at the last minute to curtsey. She felt weird. This was all weird.

"Merlin? I thought you were a myth?" the King said with a smile.

"You're barking up the wrong tree," Merlin said with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Although my magic is indeed the stuff of legend, I have merely been quite literally a stick-in-the-mud for the past few centuries."

Emma groaned at his puns. "I swear to god if the next sentence you say contains the terms 'branching out' or anything similar, I'm walking," she muttered out the side of her mouth.

"I'm sure it's a fascinating tale," Queen Snow said. "Now what brings you to our kingdom? How might we be of service?"

"It is I who hope to be of service to you, fair Snow, may I present to you, your daughter, Emma." He swept his arm towards Emma as he spoke, and she had no idea how to react.

"Err.. hi?"

The news didn’t go down well. Queen Snow's smile had frozen in place and a look of pure fury had overtaken King David's handsome face. "Do you think this is funny?" he asked. "Our daughter is dead."

Emma felt sick at this news. As much as she didn't really believe what Merlin had said could be true, it was horrible to hear such grim confirmation that it wasn’t. How must she look to them? Like a wicked imposter, intent on intruding on their grief.

She grabbed Merlin's arm at once. "Stop this," she hissed, "I told you that I'm no princess, I'm just Emma Swan. Now let's -"

"What did you say?" King David cut her off, rushing towards her. "What is your name?"

She felt alarmed at this sudden about turn. "Um... it's Emma Swan?" Her answer wasn't a question, but she couldn't help the uncertainty that she felt at his reaction. His eyes filled with something that looks a lot like hope, and she really didn’t know why.

"Like the swan princess," he breathed and Emma's confusion grew ever more as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Did I - did I say something wrong?" she asked.

"Why did you think that your daughter had passed?" Merlin asked.

The queen recovered first, and while she couldn't tear her eyes from Emma, gazing at her in wonder, she found her voice. "Rumplestiltskin told us - he said - we were sure... But maybe we were wrong?"

"The Dark One lies," agreed Merlin, consoling them. "Perhaps you might show me this memory so that we can discover the truth of the matter?" He flicked his wrist and a dreamcatcher appeared in his hand. He held it up to Queen Snow, who nodded her head, all the while staring at Emma.

 

**Enchanted Forest, 26 Years Ago**

Queen Snow and King David hurried through the dungeons. Their way was lit by torches along the walls of the tunnels hewn out of rock. They reached their final destination, a cage for a monster, spikes from the ceiling and the floor crossing over to form bars like the teeth of a crocodile.

King David marched straight to the bars and yelled, "Rumplestiltskin, where is our daughter?"

"Emmmmm-ma," a sing song voice rang out in the dark. "Em-ma. Come out and play!"

"This isn't the time for games! Come into the light and explain yourself, demon!"

Rumplestiltskin appeared at the gate suddenly, startling King David, who glared at him. Angry blue eyes stared into unreal green ones as the imp gleefully pressed his glittering face forward, a manic grin overtaking his face.

"She's lost. Lost lost lost."

"What do you mean by lost?" asked Queen Snow, voice cracking in desperation, "we found ... we found the bodies of her escorts and the forest was razed to the ground, but we couldn't find her."

"Little Emma, born the Saviour, meant to save you all, Rumple bumple could not persuade her, to be his very own Saviour, and that was their downfall."

Queen Snow gasped, while King David growled. "Answer us! Where is Emma?"

"Too late. She's gone. She won't come back." Rumplestiltskin giggled as he spoke.

"I don't believe you!" roared King David. "She can't be dead!" The fight went out of him and he slumped backwards against a wall and whispered to himself, "she can't be."

"Lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost" Rumplestiltskin descended into manic mutterings, giggling and twitching, and no more sense could be found from him.

 

**Enchanted Forest, 1 Year Ago**

Emma had gone pale. "It's him! The monster who made me do it ... I remember now, I remember what happened!" She looked up at Merlin, fear clutching her heart as the memories she had long since repressed bubbled to the surface. "It was me, I killed them all, I didn't mean to I swear, I swear!"

"Emma, you need to breathe." He waited until she had calmed a little, then stepped closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Why do you think you killed them?"

"My magic, I was scared by that ... that thing. I kind of ... exploded and I ended up at the other side of the kingdom. The next day I heard that they had all died and it had to have -"

"You are far too good, and your magic is far too pure, to have done this." Merlin laughed as Emma scrunched up her nose at his words. "I can see many things. A burst of pure magic from a untested youth would not have killed fairies, it would have taken the black heart of The Dark One to summon the power. Was it this belief, that you had done this, that made you flee the kingdom?"

Emma nodded.

"Well then, it is time to set that aside and be reunited with your family."

He stepped back from her and her parents came forward. They were crying with happiness.

"So it's true?" Emma asked, dumbstruck, still expecting some further test, some further proof of her heritage.

Queen Snow - her mother - hesistantly reached up to Emma's face, cupping her cheeks in her hands and smiling through her tears. She pulled Emma into a hug that she did not return, shock, confusion and a deep sadness that she had had parents all this time warring within her as her face pressed into her mother's shoulder. Her father joined the hug, wrapping himself around the pair and cradling the back of Emma's head as if she were still just a small child.

"You found us," her mother murmured into her hair. "You really found us."

"Mum? Is everything alright here? Grumpy came to get me, he said that my sister had come home?"

Her parents stepped back from her, and looked towards the source of the question. A young man perhaps just a few years younger than herself stood before her. He had a similar chin to her, but with a stronger jaw. His hair was dark like their mother's, but he had the same green eyes as her.

"Leo, come meet your sister," called out King David before turning and staring at her with love and contentment, she forced on a smile in return, "Emma. Emma, this is your brother, Leo. This is the first time you've met, we had him after you - after you disappeared."

"It's lovely to meet you Emma," he said, but unlike their parents, he didn't rush to embrace her. He at least seemed to appreciate that they were total strangers to each other.

She was glad of it, for at her father's words she realised that they had had him to replace her. He had the life she should have had and on top of the other revelations of the day it was too much for her to handle.

"If you don't mind, I think I have to - I just need - um. Bye." She flicked her wrist and disappeared as her mother shouted, "Emma, wait!"

***

Killian sat in shock at all Emma had just shown him. What a life to have lived through.

“There’s one more memory that I want to show you, it’s easier to do it that way, but I don’t already have a dreamcatcher ready so I’ll just be a minute.”

“That’s ok, I can wait,” he said and watched as she conjured up a dreamcatcher and concentrated hard on it. He could actually see the memory being pulled from her head, strands of light drifting down and forming into the image of Emma as she’d been when Killian first met her, in fact, wearing the _exact clothes_ she had when he met her.

He leaned forward, curious to see if this was going to end the way he thought it might.

 

**Enchanted Forest, 3 Weeks Ago**

Emma was stood in a desolate clearing, the ground scorched and bare. She was waiting.

A swooping sound alerted her to an approaching dragon and she turned and grinned at the sight of a familiar black dragon with gold eyes. They flew in circles around her that whipped her ponytail into a tangled mess before landing, and transforming into her friend Lily.

“Was that really necessary?” Emma asked with a groan, “you know it makes my hair look like shit.”

“Perfect reason to do it then, can’t have you getting airs and graces just because you know that you’re a princess now.” Lily rolled her eyes as she said this, voice dripping with disdain.

“Urgh, don’t remind me.”

“What? Don’t want me to call you Your Highness? Oh wait, do I need to curtsy before I speak to you now?”

“Seriously, cut it out. I hate all this royal family bullshit - I didn’t even like hanging out in _your_ castle and now I’m living in one.”

“To be fair, my mum is a bitch. I don’t like hanging out there half the time.” Lily smirked as she said it.

Emma laughed at Lily’s reaction. “She put a princess under a sleeping curse, I’d hate to see how you’d describe the actual Evil Queen with all the massacres and stuff.”

“Oh she’s a total psycho bitch. Mum deserves better”

“Nice to know that you have some sense of perspective.” Emma sighed. “Look, I know things are weird and different now. I’m on the heroes’ side and my mum and your kind of step mum are mortal enemies or something?”

“Oh she’s so pissed that she could’ve killed Snow White’s daughter - and stolen all your magic - a million times over if she’d only known.”

“She did try to steal it once a few years back. Teamed up with the Wicked Witch. So I guess she gets a gold star for effort? Or maybe a black one, being a villain and all…”

“Emma what is all this? Why are we talking about my mum’s insane girlfriend?” Lily interrupted, glaring at her.

“I just wanted _this_ again. I wanted to see you and talk and feel normal for a little bit. Not like some princess who has to try to look after an entire kingdom and use my magic to make sure they all get their happy endings.” As Emma talked her hysteria grew, until she was actually yelling at her friend, all the frustration of the past year pouring out of her. “It’s crap! And I’m expected to go to balls. Actual, fucking _balls_ where they dance and stuff and meet eligible princes who are all dull as fuck. Not to mention Snow has started hinting that maybe they should reinstate me as their heir because of the line succession and being a progressive country and some such bullshit! It’s not like it isn’t weird enough to have a little brother who has everything that I should have had if my parents had bothered to actually fucking look for me without then taking away his birthright! I’m sure he’d really love me for that.”

She felt like her chest was ready to burst by the time she’d finished, panting hard. She damn near forgot to breathe in the course of her rant and the sheer force of releasing all that pent up anger combined so that her chest felt tight and her throat constricted.

Lily stared hard at her for a long moment. “It’s a wonder that you haven’t caused some kind of magical catastrophe with all that emotion going on.”

“Believe me, the stress of keeping all these feelings locked up and my magic in check is driving me slowly mad.” She let out a long sigh. “I just wish I wasn’t a princess anymore, you know? Just for a little bit at least?”

“You want to be careful what you wish for, all magic -”

“- comes with a price. Yeah, yeah, I read the manual.” Emma’s dismissive words were barely out of her mouth when a swirling portal opened behind her. It pulled her feet out from under her and dragged her backwards. Lily instantly transformed into a dragon, and made a grab for her with her claws, but Emma slipped through her grasp and into the portal.

She flew through the air for a minute then landed with a bump on a hard, grey surface. She looked around, startled by the strange buildings, the moving shiny metal boxes on wheels and all the strange bright lights. “Shit,” she yelled very loud and wondered what on earth she should do now.

***

“Wow,” said Killian. “I understand your anger about careless wishes now.”

“Tell me about it. I’m living mine. Nothing good ever comes from wishing.”

Killian went to say something, but closed his mouth and stared at his lap. _We met because of it,_ he thought. But was that a good thing? They knew they couldn’t be together, at least, not for long. He sighed long and hard before wrapping his arms around Emma and letting her bury her head in his shoulder. This was about her, it wasn’t time for him to have a pity party.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d stayed curled up like that when he realised that she’d fallen asleep on him. Uncertain of what to do, he simply let himself enjoy sitting with her for a few moments longer, feeling his own eyes growing heavy.

“She showed you everything?” George’s voice snapped him out of his dose. He blinked a few times to bring the dragon into focus, clearly gesturing to the collection of dreamcatchers that were laid out on the coffee table. He nodded in reply. “Good. So you know why I play guard dragon. She doesn't need a Prince Charming, because that's some epic Oedipus daddy issue shit, but she's been with too many dicks and now her whole world has turned upside down.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

George studied him before nodding in agreement. “You wouldn’t. Damn, she’s unlucky. Finally finds herself a good one and he lives in another realm.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You gonna get her into bed? And don’t you dare turn that into something dirty or I’m gonna have to demote you to dick status.”

Killian sniggered softly. “As if I would.”

He shifted awkwardly and Emma mumbled something that sounded like “shut up Blue, you smug, shady bitch” but didn’t wake. Inch by inch he shuffled, finally making it to standing position, then bent at the knees and gently eased Emma into his arms. As he stood up she blearily opened an eye but he just shushed her and she nuzzled back into his chest.

He carried her into the room, and with George’s help he tucked her into bed, averting his eyes while the dragon removed her skirt. He turned to go but George stayed him with a claw on his arm. “You should stay with her tonight. She’ll need your comfort after everything you’ve learned. I know you guys can’t be together, but show her that someone would stay with her if they could, ok?”

“I’d stay with her forever,” was his earnest reply.

“I know,” said George, “and I think deep down, so does she, but actions speak louder than words to Emma. Just be there now.” And with a pat to his arm, he slipped out into the sofa.

Killian thought for a moment whether he should stay dressed, but eventually the heat decided for him. Despite the ongoing storm, the air was stifling, so he stripped down to his boxers and removed his prosthetic. He crawled in beside Emma and gingerly placed his arm around her waist. She made a noise of contentment and snuggled closer into his arms.

It was so perfect, so right to have her here with him that it was almost hard to remember why he couldn’t keep her. It took the memory of Regina leaving her family, the pain and anguish that her and Robin had felt as they parted to bring him back to reality. They couldn’t have forever, but they could have right now and that would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it - sucks to be a princess, especially if you didn't know you were a princess. I hope you liked the reveal, and the Harry Potter reference ;) I'd love to hear your thoughts here or over on tumblr


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearly at the end! Thanks for sticking with me.

Killian woke with a hand on his stomach that sent searing heat right down to his bones.  _ Emma. _

She was sprawled out across the bed, face down on the pillow, hair everywhere. The thin blanket was kicked down to around their ankles and at some point in the night she’d ripped off her top, leaving her in just her underwear. 

As gorgeous as she was, she was a mess and that made him want her more than ever. It was like they’d skipped straight past the tear each other’s clothes off stage and settled straight into something more intimate, and far more precious.

He felt a rush of affection, longing and desire coursing through him. He rolled onto his side and ghosted his hand along her back. She shifted slightly and he jerked away, ashamed that he’d been so caught up in his own wants that he’d almost -  _ almost - _ touched her without permission. His cheeks flamed red. His blood pounded in his ears. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth trying to force back the sudden wave of feeling.

Emma grabbed his hand before he could turn away from her.

Cautiously he opened one eye. She was on her side now, staring at him through her hair that had fallen haphazardly across her face. She tugged his hand back towards her but stopped before he touched her, letting him go and biting her lip with uncertainty.

He reached out, watching her intently now and slowly dragged his fingers up her arm. She let out a soft sigh of happiness and he shifted closer towards her. He stroked her neck and along her jaw, gently taking her chin in his hand and pressed his forehead against hers. He stayed there for a long moment, breathing her in, steadying himself for what was to come.

He kissed her softly, lips trembling as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest, his lungs worked overtime and his nerves wound themselves ever tighter. He felt half crazed by her and he’d barely touched her yet.

He slid his hand up into her hair and drew her closer to him, her skin hot against his, her breasts brushing against his chest with every ragged breath she took. And still they kissed gently, content to simply be in the moment, to be close, to be together.

Then something in him snapped. His grasp tightened in her hair and he pressed forward, opening his mouth as he sought her out desperately. She responded enthusiastically, shoving him onto his back, crawling on top of him and -

Ding dong!

The doorbell rang out shrilly throughout the flat. They both groaned in frustration, barely parting as they stopped and listened.

“Maybe they’ll go -”

DING DONG!

He gritted his teeth in frustration. Emma forced herself back from him in a movement that made it clear how desperately he had wanted this. “Oh,” she breathed as he hissed at the itch, at the need that had swelled up within him and that he now needed to force back.

DING DONG! DING DONG! DING DOOOOONG!

Whoever wanted to get in was clearly impatient, leaning on the doorbell as he finally clambered from the bed. He stumbled towards his intercom and pressed the button to answer. 

“What?” he all but snarled into the speaker.

“It’s Lily. Let me in, it’s important.”

He wondered idly if he could break a tooth or his entire jaw from the force as he clenched his teeth together. He jabbed on the button to let her in and slumped back against the door, gasping in long breaths to calm himself.

He jumped when Lily hammered on the door and scowled at it as if it was the source of his vexation and not the dragon on the other side.

“Bloody hell, did you actually fly up the stairs?” he said with a scowl as he opened the door.

Lily just shook her head as she pushed past him. “Pleased to see me Killian?” She smirked at him and darted her eyes down to his boxers pointedly.

“Of course. I’ve missed living in fear of spontaneous combustion,” he retorted, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at her.

“You mean George isn’t keeping you on your toes? I’ll have to have words with him about that. Now get dressed. We need to talk.”

She waltzed into the living room, ending the conversation. 

“Oh do come in, make yourself at home, it’s no trouble at all,” Killian muttered as he strode into his bedroom.

“Did I hear Lily?” 

Killian’s anger melted away at the sight of Emma in his bed. She hadn’t gotten dressed, but she’d pulled the blanket up over her knees, which were drawn up to her chest. He longed to return to what they’d started, but that would have to wait.

“Sadly you did. Better get dressed, love.”

Emma beamed at the term of endearment. Killian watched for a moment as she threw back the blanket and reached around for her top on the floor. He was momentarily distracted from her by the mess that had built up in the room, but she soon brought his attention back to her with a question. “Did she say what she wanted?”

“Well, that would be both logical and polite, so of course not.” He sighed and rummaged in his drawer for something to wear. He’d been so wrapped up in spending time with Emma that he’d forgotten about little things like laundry. Well, her and the pressure to save the world.

“She’s really not that bad once you get to know her. And she’s very protective of me so maybe you could try being nice?” She punctuated her question by flicking him on the arm, he jumped with a playful yelp, making a show of how much it hurt by rubbing at the spot and pouting. 

“Ow, that hurt! Perhaps you should kiss it better?” That earned him an eye roll that left him trying to hold back a grin.

“I’m serious, Killian. Just lay off the snide remarks for a bit ok? However annoying she gets.”

He sighed and cocked his head. “If it matters to you, of course.”

“It does.” She stepped out of the room and he was left to dress.

He entered the living room moments later to see Lily pacing the floor, clearly agitated. Emma was slumped on the sofa, George lounging on the floor by her feet, both watching Lily warily. His eyes met Emma's, silently asking if Lily had said anything yet, but she just shook her head and patted at the space beside her.

He strode across the room and was delighted that Emma reached for his hand as soon as he sat down, tangling their fingers together. Lily noticed immediately, eyes narrowing and darting between the two of them.

Not wanting the Spanish Inquisition to start up about their relationship, he spoke up. "The band's all back together now, so what's the emergency?"

"I've been investigating Gold."

Killian sat up straighter at the name. He had not expected this latest turn of events.

"The man who killed your fiancee?" Emma asked him, frowning in confusion. He nodded and she looked to Lily. "What's he got to do with anything?"

"Did you ever tell her that Gold is financing your rebuild of your machine?" Lily asked him.

He could feel Emma's stare burning a hole in the side of his head. If his hand were free, he'd be scratching at his neck in discomfort. "Not as such, no." He looked to her imploringly. "I wasn't hiding it from you, it just ... didn't come up."

"OK," she replied and he must have made a face at that word, because she laughed at him. "Seriously, it's OK -" she frowned at Lily - "but I don't understand why you were looking into all this?"

Lily waved a hand in the air. "I met some people, you know how it goes."

"You been hanging out in shady bars again, Lily? You gotta have a little more self respect." 

Killian snorted at the way George sassed his cousin, slightly pleased to know that he talked to his family the same way he talked to Killian.

"If I hadn't been hanging out in those shady bars I wouldn't know what I do now, so you can just cut that out right now, George." She glared at the dragon, then looked up to Killian. "Your machine's been rebuilt, right?"

Killian felt completely alarmed. "Yes ... how do you know that?"

"We need to move fast then. Your code doesn't need changing. You didn't cause this mess, Gold did."

His mind went completely blank. This didn't compute at all. "It ... I ... What?"

"All this time you've been under the impression that you, what, built something that not only created a portal to our realm, but also fractured the separations between realms, am I right?"

"Yes. We've been struggling to find a scientific explanation for -"

"There isn't one." She cut him off. " That's what I'm telling you. What's been happening isn't science, it's magic."

"And Gold is, what, some kind of wizard?"

Lily laughed. "He wishes. He's been collecting artefacts, spells, whatever he can get his hands on in an attempt to do magic."

"I know the man's a power-hungry bastard, but why would he do that?"

“Gold’s son travelled to our realm and he’s been experimenting to find a way to follow him for years.”

“You can’t possibly know that for sure.”

“I do actually,” she paused and pulled a photo from her back pocket, which she slammed down in front of them. “Meet Neal. Gold’s son. Remind you of anyone, Em?”

Killian was numb with shock. The picture showed a familiar young man. One he’d never met, but he’d seen just the night before in Emma’s dreamcatchers. “Emma’s ex is Gold’s son?” he asked incredulously, finally dragging his eyes from the smiling teen to Lily.

She stared at him, mouth open and eyes wide, a practical emoji of shock.

“Emma told you about Neal?” She looked to Emma. “You told him -” she cocked her head towards him - “about Neal?”

“I showed him actually,” she said with a shrug as if trying to downplay the importance of this piece of herself that she’d shared with him.

Lily’s eyes practically bugged out of her head at these words, eyebrows disappearing beneath her hair as they shot upwards. “Wow.” She turned directly to Killian and looked him dead in the eye. “You never show anyone your dreamcatchers,” she said, clearly still addressing Emma.

Killian scratched behind his ear. If he felt awkward, he could only imagine that Emma felt the same, if not more so. “So Emma here once dated my late fiancee’s step son in another realm. It’s very sci-fi meets soap opera, but it’s hardly the most important issue right now.”

This comment earned him the full force of Lily’s glare and he thought he could see a gleam of gold in her eyes suggesting that her inner dragon longed to come out and fight him. But she soon looked back to Emma with a quick “don’t think this is over” before she continued to recount all she’d discovered.

"Neal got his hands on a magic bean -"

"Woah, who'd he have to sell to get that?" George asked. "They're rare even in our realm, but here?" He whistled through his teeth, a faint puff of smoke leaving his nostrils as he did it.

"I know, right? I don't think he really understood what it was, from the sounds of it, someone offered him 'the trip of a lifetime' and he thought they meant drugs." She rolled her eyes in disdain and Emma groaned. "God, I can't believe I ever dated such a loser," she muttered.

"Anyway, Gold's been trying his hardest to get to our realm for years, and all that magic's been battering against the walls between the realms. When Killian turned his machine on, it not only created a portal, but also sucked one of the most powerful wielders of magic in our whole realm through." She looked at Emma and Killian reached out for her again, only to feel her blindly reaching for him too. He squeezed her hand to reassure her. "Emma, you brought magic here and that's shattered the wall between our realms, letting magic bleed through the cracks. Everyone here has a fairytale counterpart in the Enchanted Forest and they've been switching places. God knows what a mess it's been over there, suddenly dealing with all these people from the Land Without Magic..." She sighed deeply, lost in imagining what it was like back home.

Killian dropped Emma's hand so he could rub at his temples. He could feel a headache coming on, though whether it was the information overload or the heat and humidity that was rearing its ugly head despite the tumultuous storms of the previous night that should have broken the heat wave, he couldn't be sure. "OK, so my machine was simply the final straw, so what do we do now?"

"Theoretically? We send Emma home."

Killian's heart clenched at Lily's words. He had always known that it had to be this way, but despite that he'd found himself hoping. Hoping that somehow, some way, they would get to be together anyway. But Lily had set fire to that hope and left it in ashes.

"Will that drain the magic from this realm?" Emma asked, if she felt as broken as he did at the thought, she showed no trace of it in her voice.

"We won't know until we try. But I found this guy, The Dragon -"

"- seriously?" cut in George, hackles rising in indignation.

"He's actually a dragon, it's cool," Lily mollified her cousin, and he sat back down with an impressed nod. "Anyway, he says that there's always been pockets of magic, even here, but that Emma's presence has caused an unprecedented surge of magical energy. He believes that when she has safely returned, our realm will soak up all the power that had spilled over to this world and we'll all get to go back home."

"I get to bring back all the happy endings," said Emma quietly, "go me."

"I guess that explains the whole Saviour prophecy?" Lily said.

"Yeah. And we thought it was just about the curse that was never cast. I actually thought I'd dodged a bullet somehow. Guess you can't cheat destiny."

"It does make you a pretty badass princess," Lily said reassuringly.

"Oh hells yeah!" added George, "not like those simpering idiots in their girly frocks at all, you're like Mulan-level awesome. Wait, scratch that, we need a whole new level to describe you, you're the motherfucking Saviour!"

Emma smiled tightly. "Thanks guys. Can you just - can I have a minute?" She didn't wait for a reply, simply fled to the bedroom.

"I'll go after her," Killian said, already rising, both Lily and George nodding their agreement as he went.

He knocked softly on the door to announce himself to Emma and peeked inside. She was curled up on the bed, hugging herself. When she didn't object to his presence, he stepped inside and closed it behind him. She didn't move an inch as he walked over and sat beside her. 

She looked so small and sad in that moment, she didn't deserve to have the health and happiness of two entire realms resting on her shoulders. Nothing he could say could make that better for her, so he did all he could, he lay down beside her and held her.

"I wished that I didn't have to be a princess anymore," she said after a few minutes in heavy silence. "I wanted a normal life and then your portal appeared and there was you and for a little while I've been allowed to escape my fate and just  _ be  _ \- be me, be happy, be in -" she broke off and breathed heavily. Killian listened, trying hard not to think about what the last word might have been, if she'd only let herself say it. "Lily coming here today was just a reminder that what I wanted - what I thought I could have - was not on the cards for the Saviour." She paused for a beat then pushed him away, sitting up suddenly. "It's not fucking fair!" she yelled, and sparks flew from her fingertips into the wall, leaving little dents in the plaster.

He sat up cautiously, his hand hovered at her shoulder, a cruel mockery of the delicious promise of the moment he'd been so hesitant to touch her less than an hour before. He violently shoved back the memory and wrapped himself around her. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed.

They stayed like that for several minutes, but at last Emma calmed. She sat up and looked him in the eye. “I have to leave you,” she said, “we were only just starting and now -”

His heart wrenched at the thought of what was to come. 

She looked like she was struggling with her next thought. “You have to promise me that you'll really  _ live _ . Don't let this stop you from laughing and loving and enjoying your life.”

“I won't,” Killian said, and he meant it sincerely. He didn't think he would ever be happy again when he lost Milah, but Emma had come into his life and shown him how wrong he had been to lose himself. 

He knew now that the best way to honour Milah was to live his life to the fullest, to keep her alive in his heart by doing all the things that she loved best - embracing new experiences, facing new challenges, eating, drinking, dancing, sailing, creating, and exploring life with the spirit of adventure. 

If he was to be parted from Emma too, he would keep her with him, guiding him to be his best self and to live his best life.

“I could make you dreamcatchers?” Emma offered uncertainly.

“What?” 

“Dreamcatchers in our realm are a way to extract memories, it can keep them safe, you could have a memory of me, maybe one of Milah?”

Killian’s head reeled at the thought. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d have given anything to recall Milah’s laugh, her smile, her touch with perfect clarity, but now this offer seemed hollow. He knew that it was kindly meant, but it felt like a route to more heartache and unhealthy obsession, shuddering inwardly at the thought of watching them on repeat.

“I … I don’t know.” He frowned deeply as he tried to process how he felt about all this. He wanted Emma’s perspective on whether he actually should do this or not. “Is that what you’ll do?” Her face twisted in confusion. “Will you make dreamcatchers to capture our time together?”

“No,” Emma replied immediately. “They allow you to see your memories, but you don’t feel them anymore. The ones I keep are some of my most painful ones, I removed them so that I no longer felt that pain. But the way I f - there’s nothing from our time together that I want to be without.”

He smiled sadly. “Even holding a knife to my throat within moments of meeting me?”

Emma laughed, but she too had sadness in her eyes. “Especially that.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to ever forget how it feels to know you. I want this feeling to be a part of me forever. I can’t lie that it’s tempting to know that I could see you or hear you whenever I want… But that won’t bring you back to me.” He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. “It’s more important to me that I remember how it feels to be with you, even if the rest fades, you’ll always be in my heart. I just wi-” He stopped himself before he wished, Emma’s dire warnings sitting heavy on him. “I want this to not be the end.”

“Yeah. This just really sucks,” she huffed. 

Despite himself, he laughed at her blunt assessment. 

“Right.” She nodded at him. “I guess it’s time to fight the good fight or whatever.” She stood up, and he followed her back into the living room. Lily was still looking agitated. “I’m all good Lily, so, do we need to get back home?”

“The sooner the better. Gold’s been … well, let’s just say, he’s been taking advantage of the chaos that magic’s caused. I hate to think what more damage he could do with access to everything in our world.”

“I bet he’s already got guards on the machine,” Killian said with a groan.

“I think so,” Lily said with a sad nod. “But we’ll be fine. We’ve got two dragons, a total badass witch. And you.”

Killian chose to ignore the slight to him. “I wish I still had my weapons,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“You had weapons? And you, what? Lost them down the back of the sofa?” Lily was glaring at him, shaking her head in disbelief.

He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. “A massive dragon melted them actually, you might know her, black scales, gold eyes, huge fucking chip on her shoulder.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I was a little freaked out at the time,” she said defensively.

“Guys, stop fucking bickering. From now on, we put our differences aside and we work together. OK?” Emma snapped.

“OK,” Lily grumbled.

Killian filled with pride at the way she took charge. He smiled at her, despite her chastising him. “Whatever you say, lead on Saviour.”

She preened at his words. “Now everyone hands in.” She held out her hand and waited as they all gathered around and grabbed onto her hand. “Why waste time when I can use my magic to get us there -” she flicked her other hand and they were surrounded by swirling smoke - “in a flash?”

And they were in the corner of Killian’s lab.

Killian barely had time to register the change in scenery before everything kicked off.

“Duck!” yelled George.

“Wha -” His face twisted in confusion at the command. The tiny dragon huffed. He sprang into the air. He pushed hard on Killian’s shoulder, slamming him into Emma. He roared and a jet of fire streamed from him. It hit the burly would-be attacker straight in the face.

Killian and Emma stumbled. She wrapped one arm around his waist and spun them around to face a line of guards. A blast of magic sent them all flying backwards.

“Oh fuck, the computers, the machine!” His voice was insanely high pitched. He had skipped straight past alarmed and right into hysterical. His heart was pounding. His adrenaline pumping. He was ready for action. But they needed to think clearly. They couldn’t break anything.

_ Bloody fucking hell. The Avengers never had this shit to deal with. _

He felt Lily transform behind him. He groaned and called over his shoulder at her. “Seriously, Lily, don’t melt the fucking equipment!”

She rolled her eyes at him. That was weird.

He saw the jet of magic out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to face Gold’s goons. One was slumped on the floor near his feet.

“You’re welcome,” Emma said simply.

He needed to set up the machine. It was on the other side of a wall of evil fuckers. On the 32nd floor of a glass building. They were fucked.

Lily swooped a wing. It knocked a guard close to her against the windows. The inner windows shattered instantly and he flew through them. He slammed hard against the outer glass wall with a sickening crunch. The man’s scream was chilling.

The noise distracted Killian and Emma. He only noticed someone rushing towards her at the last second. She hadn’t seen him at all. Killian aimed a punch square at his jaw that sent him reeling backwards. He flung his arm out and something black flew at Emma.

She froze. “Squid ink!” she shrieked.

“She can’t move,” translated George. He flew in front of her. “I’ll protect her. Get to the machine.”

Killian nodded. He stepped in front of her too.

Why hadn’t they planned ahead for this?

He scanned the room. The smug guard who’d incapacitated Emma stood before her and George, a vicious grin on his face. Smug Guard was clearly set on taking her out. That sent a spike of fear through him. He took deep breaths, filling his lungs right down to his belly, using the air to force his nerves out. He had to focus.

Behind Smug Guard two monstrous men were planted in front of the computers. The Mountain and The Hound he named them. To their left stood another three guards, blocking the machine. Tom, Dick and Harry. And Gold leaned on a cane behind them all, smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Right. First target. The computers. No choice but to take on The Mountain and The Hound. But what about… He couldn’t worry about Tom, Dick and Harry. He whirled around to Lily. He held up three fingers in front of his stomach, then pointed towards the group. He raised his eyebrows in question. A slight nod from her. They were her problem now.

He darted forward. The Hound came at him. He stayed light on his feet keeping out of The Hound’s reach. The brute swung wildly. He missed. Stumbled. 

Killian slung his arm around the back of The Hound’s head and dug his prosthetic fingers into the back of his neck. Deep. Deeper than his human hand could go. Pushing into the skin. Blood seeping around his grasp. He felt the guard’s spine. He twisted his wrist and it broke. 

He pulled back with a squelch. The Hound slumped to the ground, lifeless.

One down.

He kept his distance from The Mountain, the larger and scarier of the two. He watched to see what his next move would be. The guard was unmoved by his partner’s death. Brutal. Unrelenting. He barely registered the loss of The Hound or Killian’s presence.

This was going to be trickier.

He moved swiftly around The Hound’s body, hoping to taunt The Mountain into action. The Mountain was easily 6’7” and 400 pounds. Killian was no match for him. He couldn’t afford to attack him outright, the hulking beast would squash him. As he closed the distance he saw The Mountain’s eyes flick to a spot over his shoulder. And he roared into action. 

He moved clumsily. He seemed to struggle to shift his powerful limbs.

At least Killian had speed on his side. 

He ducked and dived as The Mountain punched out. His easily wove in and out of the way of the flying fists. He aimed a kick right to The Mountain’s groin. He gave an “oooof” of pain, a low, rumbling groan, and doubled over. Killian took the chance, twisting his wrist to deliver a powerful blow with his prosthetic, and knocking The Mountain out.

Two down.

He was at the controls. He grinned triumphantly, breathing heavily. He was going to win. They were going to save the world. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Tom, Dick and Harry, wary of their attack.

They hadn’t moved.

Lily had shifted forward so it was possible they were wary of her attack. But she was a little too large to easily move in such a space and while she couldn’t use fire, she was vulnerable. He narrowed his eyes and looked to Gold. The man’s own grin was triumphant.

Suddenly he saw the fight through fresh eyes. That had been easy. Too easy. Gold needed him to turn the damn machine on. He was handing the beast exactly what he wanted.

_ Fuck. _

He turned to fully face Gold. His face was defiant. “You think I’m going to use my machine to help you get to Neal? Milah loved him, she was more of a parent to him than you ever were. And you punished her for his disappearance. You destroyed her.” He clenched his teeth, pained by the recollection of his Milah. “It was  _ you  _ he wanted to escape. I’ll  _ never  _ help you get him back.”

Gold smirked. Killian’s blood ran cold at the sight.

Gold gestured to the back of the room. Killian looked around, confused. Two men walked forward. Another of Gold’s men and Dr Smee. Killian felt a surge of anger,  _ that fucking rat, _ coursed through his brain. Then he noticed. The guard had his hand at Dr Smee’s back and was shunting him forward. He looked petrified.

“Not to worry,  _ Dr Jones,” _ Gold’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “I don’t need your help to switch the machine on.”

Killian felt nauseous. His skin tingled all over. He was cold. Clammy. Afraid.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Emma was wriggling the tips of her fingers. The squid ink was failing. A powerful feeling seized him, burning bright inside and giving him strength. Hope.

“You honestly think Dr Smee here knows how this all works? I don’t know which dodgy online ‘university’ gave this guy his degree, but it’s not worth the paper it’s printed on.” Killian prayed that the man wouldn’t object to this slander. If they got through this all unscathed, he would buy the man all the apology drinks in the world. While he talked he tried to keep tabs on Emma, watching her in his peripheral vision, looking for a sign from her that she was at last free. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t break a sweat at this supposed dramatic revelation.” He leaned back against the console, lazily picking at his nails. 

Gold’s cool smile turned vicious. “You talk a good talk, but I don’t believe you.”

Killian shrugged. “That’s entirely up to you. You don’t have to believe me.” He leaned forward, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He was having fun playing with Gold, the way the crocodile had liked to taunt him. He gestured dramatically towards the ceiling, gasping as he did so, as if inspiration had just struck. “Unless you want to see your son of course.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Shifted slightly. Good.

Gold snarled. “You cannot keep me from him!” he shrieked.

Then, the world changed.

Gold was no longer entirely human. He had developed some kind of sparkly skin complaint.  _ He looks like Edward Cullen fucked a crocodile, _ Killian thought disdainfully, then noted the unusual reptilian leather the man wore, _ complete with clothes to match. _ His hair was long, limp and rank around his face. His eyes gleamed with an unnatural glow.

He was repulsive.

Even more so than usual.

He was facing the Gold from Emma’s world: Rumplestiltskin. The demon let out a high pitched giggled that chilled Killian to his core. His eyes flashed with glee. “Hook!” he called out.

“Will people stop calling me that? It’s rude to mock a man’s disability, don’t you know?” He didn’t know where this outrage came from, but it was honestly absurd. “Does this look like a hook?” He held up his prosthetic to prove his point. Only it wasn’t his prosthetic at all. He was brandishing a hook. An actual hook.

“What the fuck?” he yelled out in surprise.

Rumplestiltskin raised his hand in a clenching motion at his throat and he felt himself flying into the air, feeling as though a hand were clasped at his throat. “Dr Smee,” he gasped out, “please, switch -” he broke off as the villain tightened the magical grasp on his throat

“Captain? Where are we?” He looked over at Dr Smee, and where had once stood a highly respected scientist was now a scruffy looking pirate in a knitted red hat. The guard had released the man in total confusion.

Emma lept into action. She fired a blast of magic that caught Rumplestiltskin off guard and Killian dropped down, gasping and holding his throat in pain. He gulped in some air as he watched as Emma froze Tom, Dick and Harry and swept them to one side with her magic before they could react to the strange sequence of events. Struggling for breath, he turned to the computer, intent on setting the start sequence in motion, but how do you type with a fucking hook?

And his prosthetic hand was back.

He looked over his shoulder. Gold was once again a man - after a fashion - in a slick designer suit. He looked outraged. “Why was I in a dungeon?” he barked at Killian. “What did you do to me?”

Killian leaned back against the console once more, arms folded across his chest. “As I understand it, that was all your magical experiments in action, Gold, perhaps it was karma?”

Gold scowled and motioned towards the guard with Dr Smee. 

Emma immediately waved her wrist and their gun appeared in her hand. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she said.

Gold grinned, a crocodile smile that made Killian shiver. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit and withdrew a long white crystal with a handle in the middle.

“Are we meant to be scared of a cheap Christmas decoration?” Killian asked, unimpressed. “Fuck,” breathed Emma. “Oh hell no,” shouted George. And Lily charged straight forward.

Killian looked on in horror as Lily extended her long neck, nostrils flaring and teeth bared. She swallowed Gold in one bite with a sickening crunch that Killian felt deep in his bones. He knew he would be hearing that sound for weeks.

_ So much for not eating people, _ he thought, gazing at the spot that previously had been occupied by Gold.

As Lily moved back from the machine she transformed back into a human. He was gaping open mouthed, stunned by what he had just seen. “Urgh, I’m going to have indigestion for weeks,” she said, picking at her teeth. “Don’t suppose you’ve got anything I can use to take away the taste? He was rank.”

“I’m not surprised, you really took one for the team,” George said sympathetically.

“Um, what just happened here?” Killian asked looking around at Emma, George, Lily and Smee. The final conscious guard had disappeared, likely scared off by what he’d seen.

“That was the Olympian Crystal,” Emma explained, “it would’ve destroyed our souls if Gold had used it.”

“Wow. OK.” He looked over to Lily and made a pathetic thumbs up. “Good job then, nice work on the murder.” He turned back to Emma. “So, what happens now, love?”

“Now? Now I go home.” She looked miserable. “I better go first, so we know whether my leaving is really enough to bring everyone home.”

He nodded and returned to the control panel and slowly selected the code that would bring the machine to life. 

Dragging his heels, he made his way to the machine. He didn’t much relish the thought of saying goodbye to Emma with an audience, but what else could he do? Her reasoning made sense. Prolonging the inevitable wouldn’t make her loss any easier to bear.

He climbed inside, and just like that fateful night when he’d tried to save Milah and instead met an infuriating, challenging, enchanting Saviour, he input the coordinates. He hit the command to send.

The familiar lights swirled before him. The beam of light shot out from the machine across the room. A flaming circle of light appeared, revealing a desolate clearing in another world. 

He stepped out of the machine. Emma ran towards him. Her hair flew around her, lit by the fiery lights behind her.

“Being here with you has meant the world to me, you know that?” she said.

“And me.” There was nothing else to say. Nothing else that would help.

“Hey, you know our spot by the river?”

He smiled at the way she called it theirs. “The grass beside the Tate Modern?”

“Yeah. Maybe … maybe you could go there once a year to remember me?”

“I won’t need to go somewhere to remember you, love.”

“No, but… Maybe you could go there at midday on the anniversary of my coming to this realm and I’ll go to this gorgeous spot in my realm that it always reminded me of and even though we’re not together, we’re both thinking of each other and we can be together while we’re apart?”

His heart nearly burst at the thought. “Aye, I can do that.” He paused. “Not a day will go by that I won't think of you.”

Her smile was small, more sad than happy. “Good,” she said and dragged him in for a kiss. It was brief. Or maybe it hadn’t been. It wasn’t enough for him. All the kisses in the world with Emma would never be enough. She rested her forehead against his, then closed her eyes and ran through the portal.

It closed behind her. He looked around. Lily and George had also disappeared. She’d done it. She’d saved them. She was home.

And he was never going to see her again.


	12. Chapter 12

_One Year Later_

He was on a pirate ship, hand and hook on the ship’s wheel. The salty sea breeze felt good against his skin, soothing the heat of the hot, summer sun. Princess Emma was leaning against the railings, smiling brighter than any star in the sky and giggling as the breeze wafted her curls across her face.

Lily circled lazily overhead, on guard for attack from pirates, the Evil Queen, or the villain Rumplestiltskin. But those dark clouds on the horizon could not spoil this moment, for he was here with his love. He was at peace.

“Dr Jones, Dr Jones, calling Dr Jones!” Despite being fast asleep just moments ago, Killian's reactions were laser fast. His arm shot out and he answered the phone as he yanked it to his ear.

“I can send you to another bloody realm you know, Scarlet,” he growled. “Don’t test me.”

“Oh really?” Belle replied. He pulled the phone away from his ear to squint at it in confusion. Will’s face pouted up at him in a ridiculous kiss face.

“Why are you using Will’s phone?”

“Forgot to put mine on charge last night.”

“You never forget to put your phone on charge.” Killian could practically hear her blush at his unspoken accusation.

“Yeah, well, we were.. Um. Busy,” she blustered.

“Well, well, well Miss French. Find yourself _busy_ with our dear Will often? If so, I'd suggest you get your jabs. You don't know where that boy's been.”

“Killian!” Belle was equal parts indignant and embarrassed. “What we - if I - look, if you're still coming to book group, can you bring that book you told me about?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“Really? I thought you might feel a bit uncomfortable, what with the subject matter…”

He glanced over at his copy of _Atonement_ on his nightstand. “Lovers cruelly torn apart before their love story had truly begun? Yeah, I know that feeling.”

“Sorry.” Killian felt as though he could hear Belle's wince through the phone. “Honestly, I'll understand if it's too much.”

“It's fine, love. The counselling is helping me to cope with everything. At least this couple got their happily ever after, if only in fiction.”

He briefly wondered what he and Emma’s fictional happy ending would have been. He could practically see it, him gazing at her in adoration as they said their vows, her radiant smile as he dipped her into their first kiss as husband and wife.

He realised that he hadn't been listening to Belle at all, caught up in a love story that could never be. “... Should I stop by your place on the way?”

“Sure, you can tell me all about how Will finally tricked you into accepting that date.”

“I heard that!” Will shouted in the background.

“I meant you to!” Killian called back.

Belle sighed. “I'll see you at 7.”

“Bye. Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.” He raised his voice. “And, yes, that includes Will.” He was expecting the sudden silence that greeted his words. He may give Belle a hard time, but he really was pleased that they'd finally got their act together.

His eyes flicked to the time on his phone. 8:15am. Too late to go back to sleep, but he didn't quite feel ready to leave the comfort of his bed behind and face the world.

Instead, he pulled up Facebook and scrolled through his feed.

Cute baby.

Cute baby.

Woah, seriously ugly baby. _Bloody hell, what an unfortunate face,_ Killian thought to himself, swiping just a little faster away from the photo.

Robin Locksley shared a post from The Guardian:

_A Crocodile in our Midst_

_“One year on from the appearance of the London Dragon, and the start of the Enchanted Disaster, we now know one man was behind it all. Robert Gold. Now that the scale of Gold’s influence and empire built on favours, deceit and corruption at the highest levels has been revealed, we ask; what lessons can we learn?”_

He hesitated. Stared at the post long and hard. He should have known his feed would be full of stories like this today.

He couldn’t read it now. Perhaps he never would be able to. He’d been through enough in the past year, reporting to the Darling Inquiry, to the police, to the university.

He was finally in a better place. People finally knew what a monster Gold really was, had always been. He was working alongside Dr Smee at Imperial College London. He was getting out more. He was having regular sessions with Dr Hopper.

But still.

He sighed and continued to scroll.

Holiday photos.

Cute children.

Cute dog.

Cute baby.

Aurora Rosen shared a post from The Daily Mail “People are so mean!!! Leave this family alone!!!”:

_‘Leave our princess in peace!’ plead Ashley and Sean Herman_

_Alexandra Herman stole all of our hearts as the face of the Enchanted Disaster, a beautiful little girl lost in another world. Her parents’ campaign for her safe return had a happy ending, but now that she is safely home, they beg for privacy._

Cute baby.

Holiday photos.

Ironic “wish you were here” post of a dowdy living room presumably intended to get a laugh, but coming off a little too bitter.

Ruby Lucas shared a post from OK! Magazine UK “Get it girls ;)”:

_A Royal Romance for Rapunzel_

_“Singer Rapunzel and Princess Elsa open up for the first time about how their shared ordeal kidnapped by Gold led to them finding love.”_

So many people had been brought together by the strange happenings in town, and what did he have to show for it? Two pictures on his wall. Emma’s sketch of a swan and the recent painting he’d done of a swan on the Thames that had made him smile. The first painting he’d done since she’d left that he actually thought worthy of hanging on the wall. Yes, it was lovely to feel that Emma had helped him to rediscover his love of painting, which gave him a link to both of his lost loves, but still... A painting couldn't ask about his day, couldn’t hold him at night, couldn’t borrow his phone when it forgot to charge its own phone because of their more enjoyable activities.

God he never thought he’d be jealous of Will bloody Scarlett.

Killian sighed and put his phone to one side. It was no good. Everything was making him think of Emma. It was still several hours until he had to be at their spot, he needed a better distraction than social media.

He’d been putting off deep cleaning his fridge. No time like the present.

***

He was at their spot and the sun was shining. It wasn’t the harsh, oppressive and overwhelming heat of the previous year, but instead a gorgeous sunny day.

He should have been grateful that on his and Emma’s day, the weather was glorious, but he felt angry. There should be storms raging, torrential rain, unnatural, unseasonable fog. Something, anything to show that the world understood what he had lost.

This resentment wasn’t a new feeling to him. He’d spent years biting his tongue at the way his friends prodded him about his love life or how an acquaintance would casually refer to the loss of Milah or at the sight of Gold. His short time with Emma and the healing that he’d done in the past year had helped him to not feel overwhelmed by it. On a normal day.

But today, it was all too much.

Twice he had loved wholly, honestly and truly; and twice that love and joy had been ripped from him.

He could see how much more to life there was than just romantic love now. His therapy had helped him to appreciate the richness and beauty in all aspects of his life. But he was a passionate man and he longed to share his heart with another. The absence of that love left an emptiness inside him that caused a deep ache if he dwelt on it for long, because whoever heard of lightning striking thrice?

The beautiful day made him feel like the world was taunting him. It was just so unfair. Where was the sense in anything that had happened? As he seethed, questions whirled through his mind, he could feel his wrath taking over. His muscles tensed, he clenched his teeth, his chest felt tight as the tempest grew.

No.

Not today.

He needed to reclaim today as a celebration of his short time with Emma. He couldn’t let his fury win.

He stared at the water and tried to remember the mindfulness exercises that Dr Hopper had taught him to help him to cope. Eyes unfocused. Deep breaths. Feel the bench beneath him. Listen to the sounds around him. Notice how he felt. Don’t try to change it. Accept it. Sit with his feelings.

He caught a glimpse of golden hair.

“Swan?”

The woman spun, he knew it wouldn’t be her. He’d done this so many times before. Especially in the beginning. She had magic. She was from an entire realm full of magic. She could find a way. She would… He’d always been disappointed.

“Yes?” Green eyes looked back at him. She had soft cheeks, a dimpled chin, she was perfect. She couldn’t possibly be real. Then she frowned at him. “Do I know you? Because you said my name and now you’re doing some kind of creepy stalker thing and I’m really not into that.”

“Are you Emma Swan?”

She held up her hands and stepped back from him. “Listen, buddy -”

Killian shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m being so weird. Um, you know the Enchanted Disaster that happened?”

“Yeah! Is it bad if I say that I thought it was cool as fuck? I may have snuck a niffler home. Kind of regretted that when the little fucker tore my purse to shreds looking for treasure.”

“OK, well, I met another you, from the Enchanted Forest.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“But I didn’t end up the other realm?”

“Not everyone switched places. Some people stumbled through portals. She was the first. Faced off against the London Dragon?”

“Oh god, I remember that! People kept asking where I’d learned how to do magic, didn’t like it when I said Hogwarts. But if you’re going to ask a dumb question...”

Killian laughed and nodded. This was so weird. She was Emma, but not Emma. She had the same dry sense of humour, but with the addition of pop culture references. He realised that he’d waited too long to say more, still overawed. “The dragon was actually friends with Emma,” he said, desperate for the conversation to continue.

Emma frowned at him and shook her head incredulously. “Oh come on! Now I know you’re making this up.”

“No really! I didn’t much like her, kind of a bitch and a major fire hazard. Honestly, I don’t miss having her in my flat.”

“You had Maleficent in your apartment?”

“I believe she’s Lily’s mother actually.”

Emma smirked at him. “Bullshit.” He just raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, trying to give off a “you keep telling yourself that” vibe as he grinned. “If I believe you then I have to accept that the street art I keep seeing of her looking like some kind of badass female Saint George is all anti-dragon propaganda. You have to let me have that vision, people buy me drinks because they think I’m her, I’ve gotten _laid_ because of it.”

He laughed. “Far be it from me to cramp your style, Emma may not have actually slain the dragon, but she was definitely a badass. Have you seen the one of her looking like Wonder Woman with the lightsaber?”

“In the parking lot on Brick Lane? I love that one!”

“She loved it too. Of course, she didn’t actually know what a lightsaber was.” He laughed at the memory.

“Tell me you fixed that immediately or I’m not sure we can be friends.”

He laughed. “As if I would deny anyone a proper Star Wars education.” Emma nodded her approval. “Hey would you like to get a coffee?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Emma shook her head and his face fell. “Sorry, er, what did you say your name was?”

“Killian,” he said, trying not to feel too sad. He studied his feet, wondering if the ground could just open up and swallow him. Of course she wouldn’t want to get coffee, this was so strange and he’d approached her in the weirdest possible way.

“Maybe we could get a hot chocolate instead?” He looked up at her in surprise. She shrugged. “I don’t drink coffee,” she said apologetically. “Is that ok?”

“Yeah.” He was dazed, stunned into stupidity by this new Emma Swan.

“Come on, I want to hear all about how awesome I am.” She winked at him. And for the first time since Princess Emma had stepped through that portal he felt that powerful feeling surging through him and lighting him up inside. For the first time since she left, Killian had hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading this - I loved hearing all of your thoughts! You can find me over on tumblr [@katie-dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/tagged/katie-dub-writes) if you want to come say hi.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! What did you all think? Leave me a comment or come say hi on tumblr [@katie-dub](https://katie-dub.tumblr.com/) (or both!)  
> This fic has been made as part of this year's Captain Swan Big Bang and the absolutely lovely [@princesse-swan](https://princesse-swan.tumblr.com/) has made me some gorgeous artwork to go with this - you should absolutely go admire that!  
> The incomparable [@distant-rose](https://distant-rose.tumblr.com/) and [@ultraluckycatnd](https://ultraluckycatnd.tumblr.com/) were my betas and a small army of friends helped me to bring this to life. Thank you all.


End file.
